


Muggle Studies

by Rod



Category: CI5: The New Professionals, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Amnesia, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 64,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rod/pseuds/Rod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two young men are found unconscious in the rubble of a blown up warehouse.  CI5 want to know who they are and what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I wrote neither Harry Potter nor the New Professionals, sad to say.
> 
> This story was plotted out long before _Half-Blood Prince_ hit the bookstands, so don't expect the bang I start with to resemble JK Rowling's climax in the slightest.
> 
> The story basically comes in three parts, and I took a break after finishing the first two. After — Good Lord, after four years here, and never mind how long since I originally started, I'm finally finishing it.

Hermione Granger looked up from Albus Dumbledore's body, tears streaming down her face. This was it, the final battle against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but the cost was overwhelming. So many dead, including a few Muggles who had the misfortune to be nearby when the battle spilled into a quiet warehouse district. So many, and now this.

Ron swore. "There's the little bastard," he said. He took off at a run towards a far doorway, screaming curses as fast as he could get them off. Ahead of him Malfoy could be seen ducking out of sight as the magical energies burst around him.

"Ron," she yelled, trying to call him back before he fell into some Death Eater trap. It was no good; the animosity there had always been between Ron and Malfoy was too strong. He was into the building before she had a chance to stop him.

Harry straightened up from where he had been crouched down beside her. "It's all right, Hermione," he said in an oddly gentle voice. "I know what to do now. I know how to kill Voldemort." His eyes were slightly unfocused, scaring her a little even through the exhaustion of battle. He lifted his head and let out an achingly beautiful cry that no human throat should have been able to produce.

An answering cry came from the sky, and Fawkes swooped in to land on Harry's outstretched arm. The phoenix looked at his most resplendent, immaculate despite the fight that had been raging around him. He too bowed his head towards his dead master and shed a single, brilliant tear.

Hermione rose, pushing her tears away, determined to end this now. Voldemort had killed enough. "Let's do it."

Harry shook his head sadly. "I have to do this alone," he said. "Don't try to follow me in. Everyone in that building will die."

Something about the way he said it made her stop. "Everyone?"

"Don't worry about me, Hermione. I've been living on borrowed time for the last seventeen years."

"Harry, no!" She went to grab him, but he gestured and a shimmering barrier sprang up in front of her.

"Goodbye, Hermione," he said with a smile. "Live well. Look after Ron for me." Then his face set into grim lines and he turned and strode towards the warehouse. A golden glow was flickering around him, dancing like phoenix flames, dispersing the sickly green bolts that flew at him in a way that shouldn't have been possible according to everything Hermione had learned. Harry largely ignored them, swatting at the occasional hex with his wand to send it flying back towards the increasingly desperate Death Eaters inside.

Hermione screamed after him to no avail. She couldn't take the time to break down Harry's barrier spell in the middle of battle, as well he knew, and it was only moments before she found herself fighting for her life again. The last view she had of Harry Potter was him striding into Voldemort's refuge, wand out and Fawkes riding on his shoulder.

Some time between seconds and an eternity later, she was knocked flat by an explosion. She heard phoenix song rise one last time, saw the golden bird-shaped flames rising as they almost gently pushed the walls of the warehouse apart, and understood. Fawkes had released the fires that were his life and Harry had added all his magic, his life, his love. Nothing as tainted as Voldemort could survive those cleansing flames. Nothing as simple as human flesh.

"Harry, oh Harry," she cried, tears starting afresh. Then realisation hit her. "Ron," she whispered. "Oh God, no! Ron!"

She ran towards the end of the broken building where she'd last seen her friend, but strong hands caught her, held her. "Ron was in there!" she shouted.

"I know," Arthur Weasley said quietly, "I know." His eyes were the eyes of a father who had already seen too many of his children die, and that over all else broke her.

He held her as she cried for Ron, for Harry, for herself and Arthur and everyone who would have to go on without them. "We've got to go," he told her. "The Muggle authorities will be here soon, and there's too few of us left to hide this away."

Hermione nodded dumbly. It didn't matter any more. They were all dead, she thought as she apparated away. Voldemort, Harry, Ron, all dead. They had beaten the darkness, but at such a cost that she wished it had never happened.

*************

"So what do you reckon?" Chris Keel asked. "Terrorist bombing or gangland arson?"

Sam Curtis rolled his eyes as he drove through the suburban streets at speeds any normal motorist would consider insane. "Or any of the rest," he said. "We'll see when we get there, Chris."

"Whatever it is, I'm betting against 'gas main explosion' no matter what the police say."

True, Sam thought with the part of his mind that wasn't concentrating on the road. There had been a lot of large scale accidents of late, all with perfectly innocent explanations and followed by ministerial platitudes about improving safety standards. Individually they were nothing. Together they formed a pattern that Malone wanted to know more about, especially when the Minister turned evasive on him. If there was anything linking these events, it was very much part of CI5's remit to investigate it.

The emergency services seemed to have everything under control when they arrived. The fires were all out, and the investigators were even picking over the rubble, trying to determine what had gone on. Sam frowned and checked his watch.

"They worked fast," he said. Too fast, truth be told.

"No, you just drive slowly," Chris joked, but Sam could see he'd picked up what Sam meant. Chris would know as well as he did that from the reports Spencer intercepted, the fireball should have started blazes that could have taken hours to damp down. There was no way should it all be over yet.

"You go look over the debris, I'll talk to the firemen." Chris nodded and headed over to the remains of the building. Even if his partner was more used to blowing things up than looking at them afterwards, Sam trusted Chris's abilities when it came to explosives damage. Meanwhile it was time to sharpen his own people skills.

By the time Chris called him over, Sam had got five completely consistent, utterly inexplicable reports of what had happened when the firemen had arrived. By the looks of Chris's scowl, the physical evidence was making every bit as little sense.

"It was definitely an explosion of some sort," he said, "but it's a weird one. The blast pattern isn't right for any explosives I know of, and I haven't found any traces of a detonator or bomb casing. Maybe forensics will turn something up. And look at this." He held up something that it took Sam a moment or two to recognise. "Fire needs to burn hot and long to do this to human bone," Chris continued, "longer than it took us to get here, or hot enough to take out the entire neighbourhood not just this one building."

"It didn't burn that long in the first place," Sam said grimly. "When the emergency services got here, all they found were a few small secondary fires. The primary fire either never took hold or blew itself out in the explosion, except they keep saying fires don't do that."

Chris made a face. "It doesn't add up. We've got a number of corpses we'll probably never figure out fried in a way that just doesn't happen, an explosion that doesn't fit any known pattern and doesn't behave right, no sign of the original bomb and no one claiming responsibility. What the hell is going on?"

Over from the rubble at the far end of what had once been a warehouse, a cry went up. Sam looked over. "They've found something."

Something turned out to be someone. Two someones, in fact; two boys, one redhead and one fair, lying badly battered beneath the remains of a solid wall. Sam and Chris kept back as the ambulance crews worked, but it was clear that bloodied and bruised as they were, the boys were still alive.

Sam looked at Chris and smiled. "Eye-witnesses," he said.

Chris laughed. "Well, we had to get a break some time."

*****

At the hospital, Chris wasn't laughing any more. An investigation of the boys' ruined clothing had raised more questions than it answered. They seemed to have been wearing some sort of public school uniform, though Backup had failed to match their crests to any known school. At least the uniforms matched their apparent age, both boys seeming to be in their late teens. That was all, though; neither boy was carrying any identification, or anything else much.

Both boys also had yet to come round, and the doctors were not as optimistic as Sam would have liked. "They suffered severe head trauma, numerous broken bones and lost a significant amount of blood before they were found. There's no telling when or indeed whether they will wake up."

"Whether?" Chris asked uneasily.

"It's not unknown for even healthy adolescents to remain comatose after such a severe head injury," the doctor told them. "At this point I'm not prepared to guess at what will happen."

"Bloody marvellous," Sam grumbled as they walked away. "The only leads we've got are out for the count and may never come round. Malone's not going to be happy."

Chris nodded sourly. "At least he can be pleased that his instincts are on the money. Whatever's happening here is weird enough to go in a Sci Fi movie."

"It's not another killer satellite, is it?" Sam asked, brought up short by the thought.

"Nah, the damage is still all wrong. The fireball came from the inside of the warehouse, whatever it was."

"Oh well," Sam sighed. "At least it's your turn to tell Malone. I'll go secure the kids' room."

"Gee, thanks."

Sam smirked briefly at his partner's lack of enthusiasm for being on the receiving end of Malone's displeasure with the world. The amusement lasted only as long as it took him to return to the hospital room set aside for the two boys, and take a good long look at the two people caught in the middle of all this.

They looked pale and small, surrounded as they were by various pieces of medical machinery all merrily beeping away. People in hospital always looked small to Sam for some reason, but the fact that they were both youngsters made them seem especially frail. Schoolkids, even ones who looked to be in their late teens, shouldn't be getting hospitalised in his opinion.

Somewhere, some family was worried sick about its missing children. Probably two families, Sam thought, given that there wasn't much resemblance between them. The red-headed boy was tall and broadly built if not exactly muscular, with a well-rounded face and mildly prominent ears. The blond was perhaps a little shorter and noticeably slimmer, much more angular all round. They might be siblings, but on the whole Sam thought not.

Who were they? What had they been doing there? What had happened to them? Who would do this? All good questions, Sam thought, but all things he had no way of knowing the answers to. If the boys woke up, perhaps they could fill in the blanks. If not, well, Sam would just have to find some other way to teach the bombers that you don't do that to children.

Chris slipped quietly into the room, and Sam shook himself from his brooding. Fat lot of use he'd have been if someone had come to finish them off, he thought, carefully not thinking of how Carl Dietrich had died in their care.

"We've got the watch," Chris said. He kept his voice low despite the fact that they wanted the two boys to wake up, but Sam couldn't fault him for that. Something in the atmosphere of the room made him too unwilling to break the hush.

"Usual drill?" was all he asked.

Chris nodded. "Keep an eye out for anything suspicious and let Malone know the moment they're capable of answering questions. You want to stay here while I go charm the nurses into agreeing?"

Sam nodded, and settled back in his chair as Chris left to be his usual ebullient self to the staff. He had a feeling this was going to be a long watch.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time he woke up he was fighting all the way. He had to get conscious, there were things he had to do. He wasn't any too clear on just what it was he had to do, but there was something. His friends needed him.

He was hurt, he knew that much. His entire body ached, he couldn't think straight. For God's sake he could barely move. It was a struggle to open his eyes, but he knew he had to. Anything could have happened, his friends might need him for something and there was no time left.

The first thing he saw were green eyes staring down at him in concern. "It's OK," a voice said. "You're in hospital. You were caught in the explosion, do you remember?"

He relaxed; it was over, there was no need to struggle so much. Whatever it was he'd been struggling about. An explosion? He turned the idea over in his mind. "No," he said honestly.

The eyes didn't look terribly happy at that. They shouldn't look unhappy, he thought, aware that he wasn't thinking in straight lines but not really caring. He should say something reassuring.

"M'okay."

Green eyes looked sceptical, and turned away for a moment to talk to someone else. "You're not OK yet," the voice said when they turned back, "but the doctors say you will be."

Something wasn't entirely right with that, but he was too exhausted to figure it out. Just opening his eyes and saying two words seemed to have taken everything out of him, and since the urgency had gone all he wanted to do was sleep. "Tired," he muttered.

"I'll bet. Rest now, we can talk later."

He closed his eyes again and let sleep take him away from all the dull aches trying to overwhelm him. His last thought as consciousness fled was that the eyes were the wrong green and the voice had been much too old, but he had no idea why.

******

Sam sat back as the red-head fell asleep again. Now that he wasn't having to be reassuring, the exasperation he had been carefully keeping off his face finally showed through.

"Don't expect miracles," the nurse said reprovingly, moving forward to check the boy's vital signs. "It's not so surprising that he's not up to remembering his own name yet, never mind anything that might help your investigations. Children are very resilient. They'll be up and running before you know it, poor lambs."

Sam kept quiet. It was bad enough that the kids had been mixed up in whatever had gone on in the first place, as far as he was concerned. They shouldn't have to be resilient; that was part of what CI5 was for.

The nurse left him to his brooding, smiling at Chris as he entered the room. He smiled back, but Sam, practised in the art of reading his partner, could tell that nothing of that smile went below the surface. Chris was as worried about the boys as he was.

"Any change?" Chris asked.

"Ginger surfaced briefly," Sam told him, using the nicknames they'd inevitably ended up bestowing on the boys given their lack of ID. "Blondie's been lying doggo for the last couple of minutes."

The fair-haired boy at least had the grace to blush as Chris and Sam grinned in his direction. He opened his eyes with much unconvincing fluttering of eyelids in Sam's opinion, but there was nothing feigned about the confusion in his look.

"Where am I?" he asked.

Sam shifted over to the seat beside his bed. "You're in St Luke's hospital," he said. "You and your friend were caught up in an explosion and badly hurt. Do you remember anything about it?"

The boy thought about it for a moment. "No," he said eventually. "It's all too confused, I can't make sense of it. All I know is I hurt," he added pointedly. "All over."

Sam tried to keep a sympathetic look on his face. "I know," he said. "They're pumping a lot of pain killers into you, but there's a limit to what your body can take. Trust me, you do not want to end up addicted to that stuff. Just try to rest. It will get better."

This didn't seem to reassure the kid any, and Sam wasn't at all sure how much he took in, but he lay back anyway and stared at the ceiling. "Hospital. An explosion. When my father finds out, he's going to be furious."

The words were pretty much a formula, Sam reckoned. The boy was saying them as much to comfort himself as anything, and Sam had a momentary twinge of jealousy. His father was the last person he'd have counted on to pull him out of a jam when he was a teenager.

"Who is your father?" Chris asked.

Sam watched carefully as a variety of emotions flitted across the boy's face. Scorn first, as if Chris was stupid for needing to ask. Then worry crept in and grew until a smooth mask of cultured indifference slammed down. If Sam hadn't spent years learning how to read people, and not a few developing that same mask, he might have been fooled.

"He's very famous," the boy said, trying to sound indifferent and not quite succeeding. "You must know him."

"You can't remember, can you?" Sam asked gently. He didn't get a verbal response, but then he wasn't expecting one. The look of terror in the boy's eyes was enough. "Can you remember who you are?"

The mask broke. "Fix it! I don't want to be like this!"

"We can't." Sam kept his voice soft and level, knowing the boy was only just this side of hysteria. "There's no magic wand we can wave and put your memory back."

"Why not?"

Sam blinked. "Memory's a funny thing," he said, "and after the knock on the head that you took no one's surprised that yours is a bit scrambled. It will all come back to you, don't worry about that, it'll just take time."

It was a good thing that he was a practised liar, Sam reflected sourly. The doctors had been much less optimistic than he had just been, pointing out that amnesia was a very uncertain subject. Now that it was clear that Blondie had lost his memory, Sam suspected that they wouldn't want to commit on his memory ever returning, never mind it being soon.

"But how am I supposed to know what to do if I don't know who I am?"

Sam smiled. "Think of it this way; now you get to decide for yourself, without people expecting you to go one way or another." He took hold of the boy's hand in an effort to reassure him. He wasn't that surprised when the boy held on for dear life. "Come on, get some rest now. Maybe your memory will be back when you wake up, who knows?"

The boy was unsurprisingly still upset, but eventually the combination of his injuries and the medication he was on had him drifting off to sleep.

"Crap," Chris said succinctly, mirroring Sam's thoughts. "I hope Ginger knows who they are."

"Poor kids. Still nothing on the missing persons reports?"

Chris shook his head. "Spencer's broadened his search beyond the Met, but nothing's coming up. If Blondie's father is half as self-important as he was trying to make out, that's bad news."

They might be a couple of orphans now, Sam mentally translated. Perhaps it was a kindness that this boy couldn't remember his family.

******

"And how are our favourite invalids this morning?" Chris asked, bouncing into the room with his usual enthusiasm. He already knew the answer from Harvey's brief words as they changed watches, of course; most of the machinery was gone from around the boys and they were sitting up in bed, due to start physio today. Chris suspected that wouldn't be fun; both boys got frustrated easily by their inability to do things, coupled with the unrealistic expectations of youth.

Twin arctic glares met him. "He insulted my family," Blondie said. Chris was mildly impressed by the amount of sneering the kid managed to get into the word 'he'.

"He insulted mine first," Ginger retorted hotly.

"I did no such thing, I merely pointed out that—"

"You lying toad, I bet you—"

"Boys!" Chris bellowed in a fair imitation of his old drill sergeant. It was enough to stop the squabbling. "What do you know about his family?" he asked Ginger, distinctly unamused.

Ginger looked guilty. "Nothing," he said sullenly.

"And what does he know about your family?"

"Nothing." If Ginger had been up and about, he'd have been scuffing the toes of his shoes about now, Chris reckoned.

"So...?"

"So there's no point in getting all upset about it," Ginger mumbled.

Chris decided to let him off; Ginger seemed to be quite capable of guilting himself into apologising without any more prompting. Blondie, on the other hand, was still smirking. Chris turned to him with a friendly smile that would have done a shark proud. "So what do you know about your family?"

The smirk vanished. "That they brought me up properly."

"Really?" Chris didn't restrain the sarcasm in his voice at all. Blondie flushed.

"All right, nothing. I know nothing, I get the message!"

"Yeah." Chris softened his voice. "That's one hell of a scary place to be. Just remember, both of you, you aren't in this alone."

"No, I've got someone else who has no idea," Blondie snapped.

"Hey!"

"You've got us, too," Sam said quietly from behind Chris.

"Only because you want to know what we can't remember," Ginger snorted.

"There is that," Chris said, "but d'you honestly think we could do our jobs and then leave you two to deal with this alone? Not exactly protecting and serving, is it?"

"That's the Mounties, not us."

The boys looked blank. "Mounties?"

"The Royal Canadian Mounted Police," Sam supplied.

The blankness abated slightly. "Another law enforcement group?" Ginger asked. "How many do we need?"

Chris chuckled. "As many as we can get."

"This from the man who has made it his life's work to annoy every senior officer in the Met?" Blondie asked archly.

Chris looked at Sam. "Someone's been telling stories behind my back," he said.

"Only the ones you'd approve of," Sam told him. Somehow, Chris was not at all reassured. He looked back to see the boys exchanging wry glances. Well, at least they seemed to have forgotten their earlier spat.

"Have you given any more thought to what we talked about yesterday?" he asked.

The boys exchanged a look again, though this one was considerably more resigned. "Yeah," Ginger admitted. "You're right, since our memories aren't coming back in a hurry we should pick names before someone picks for us. That's kind of what we were arguing about."

"Really?" Chris had a feeling this was going to be good.

"Mr Millions here wants something over the top like Aristophanes."

Chris tried hard not to smile, but from the way Blondie's face darkened he didn't succeed. "What exactly is wrong with having a distinctive name?" the boy demanded.

"Nothing," Chris said quickly.

"Perhaps that's a little too distinctive, though," Sam suggested diplomatically. "Too many people might start asking questions you don't really want to answer. You want something that's distinguished without being unusual. Do any kings' names appeal to you?"

"Such as?"

"George?" Blondie made a face. "Edward? Henry? Charles? Richard?"

"Rich, hmm, I like the sound of that."

"So you're a Dick, then?" Ginger asked innocently.

"But it has its drawbacks," the other boy continued smoothly. "How about more exotic royalty?"

"Would Alexander the Great be good enough for you," Sam asked with some sarcasm.

"Alexander." The boy rolled the name around in his mouth. "It has potential," he allowed.

"You think about it for a bit. How about you?"

Ginger grinned. "Something down to earth and solid," he said. "I don't want a weird name."

"Fred," Sam said instantly.

Ginger frowned. "No. I don't know why but that's wrong."

"Is it someone else's name, someone you know?" Chris asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"I don't know!"

"OK, don't push it. How about Joe?"

"Please," Blondie-who-might-yet-agree-to-Alexander said with a pained expression. "Couldn't you suggest something with a little more class? I know the Ginger Menace doesn't appreciate heritage, but do you have to go for the lowest common denominator?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "John," he continued. "Nathan, if you want something a little less ordinary. Adam. Steven."

"Hmm. Maybe."

"I can do this all day, you know. After a bit I'll start on my family's selection of names, and then you'll be sorry."

Sam chuckled. "That's a threat coming from Red Cloud here."

Chris scowled at Sam, but the damage was done. "Red Cloud?" Ginger asked, sitting up. "What kind of a name is that?"

"I'm one eighth Navajo," Chris explained. He was met by blank looks. "American Indian?" Still nothing. "I'm guessing you guys weren't into cowboy movies."

"Cowboys had something to do with riding around on horses?" Ginger asked, frowning in concentration. "I think someone might have told me about them once."

"Never mind that," Blondie said. "There's a story behind that name of yours, isn't there? Tell!" he commanded imperiously.

Chris glared at Sam balefully. Sam smirked back. "There will be revenge for this, you know."

"There's always revenge," Sam told him. "I just thought I'd do something to deserve it this time."

They were interrupted by a knocking on the door. A middle aged woman carrying an over-stuffed ring binder and wearing possibly the most unflattering pair of glasses Chris had ever seen peered in at them. "Excuse me, are these the boys who were brought in with amnesia?"

Both boys seemed to take that amiss. "These are the young men," Sam said pointedly, forestalling either boy saying something more outrageous. Meanwhile Chris shifted himself slightly, unobtrusively covering the woman in case she turned out to be a threat.

She sniffed. "Lydia Starling, Social Services. And you would be?"

"Sam Curtis and Chris Keel, CI5. Nice to meet you, Ms Starling."

A more sensitive person might have noticed that Sam's smile was rather luke-warm as he offered his hand. Starling just beamed and shook it vigorously. "Ah, have you had some success in tracing their families then?"

"No," Chris said shortly. Ten seconds and this particular example of officialdom was grating on him already.

"Enquiries are still in progress," Sam added, reminding Chris that he should be more sensitive of the kids himself.

"Oh well, in that case would you mind leaving the room while I discuss care arrangements with them."

Sam's smile became positively cold. "Yes, we would very much mind," he said.

"In case you hadn't noticed, the guys here are part of an on-going investigation," Chris chipped in. "We don't have people in here twenty four hours a day for our health, you know. No way are you taking them somewhere we can't protect them. Besides, aren't they old enough to do their own thing?"

"Yeah, don't we get a say in this?" Ginger asked angrily. Chris was glad they'd got the whole 'someone might come to shut you up in case you knew what happened' screaming match over a few days ago. It hadn't been pretty; Blondie had spent the next few hours completely paranoid about anyone entering the room. Even now he was regarding Starling with great suspicion.

"Are you quite sure both of them are at least eighteen?" Starling asked, her own smile vanishing. Chris grimaced. The boys might be over twenty or they might be in their late teens, but no one could say for sure whether or not they were legally adults yet.

"I'm quite sure that they're at least sixteen," Sam said, "and they are allowed to leave home at that age."

"Only with their parents' consent, and you've admitted we can't find their families. Under the circumstances, the law says that we have to step in and ensure that these boys are properly cared for until we are reasonably confident that they are old enough."

"Are you quite sure that we aren't old enough now?" Blondie asked icily. Starling switched her smile back on, and briefly explained that things didn't work that way round.

"Why did we have to end up with the only Social Services in the country to be that picky?" Sam murmured quietly while she was distracted.

Chris couldn't agree more. "Look," he said sharply to Starling, "if you do anything to make our jobs harder you will be impeding a police investigation, which is illegal anyway."

"And yes," Sam said sweetly before Starling could get a word of her own in, "CI5 is considered to be police for the purposes of that Act."

"So, which law do you want to break?" Chris smiled nastily and shifted to get right in Starling's face. It was kind of stupid, but he really didn't want this woman messing with the kids. They'd been through more than enough already, and Starling's prissiness didn't bode well for the level of care they'd get from her.

"Actually," Sam said thoughtfully, "the law does allow you to pass responsibility for children on to other appropriate agencies. Under the circumstances, given the level of danger involved and the uncertainty of your actual duty of care at this point, you might wish to regard CI5 as an appropriate agency."

"Huh?" Ginger said.

Chris looked past Starling to give him a genuine smile. "She can make you our problem," he translated.

"You being the ones who can protect us, I'm all for that," Blondie said fervently.

Starling grimaced. She looked like the sort of person who preferred railroading others to being railroaded herself, but Chris wasn't in the mood to cut her any slack. "Looks like we've got approval from the crowd," he said, backing off a little, "how about you?"

"Well," she said slowly, "if my superiors agree that CI5 is responsible within the meaning of the Act, and if you're prepared to vouch for the welfare of the children, then we could consider the possibility."

Which was officialese for 'Yes,' Chris reckoned. He gave her a real smile for once. "See, we can all agree on something."

Starling didn't smile back. "If you fill in the preliminary paperwork, we can start the process of transferring the children to your care."

Blondie coughed pointedly. "We do have names, you know." Ginger shot him a quick look, then faced Starling with an equally determined glare. Chris kept his own face blank, not wanting to give anything away to the woman.

Starling flipped open her files and produced a biro from somewhere. "Oh," she cooed, "nobody let me know." She glared at Chris and Sam briefly. "If you could just tell me for our records...?"

Blondie relaxed back in his bed, his body language unequivocally saying that he was deigning to give an answer she didn't deserve. "Alexander Curtis," he said, turning to Ginger.

"Adam Keel."

******

"Yes, sir, Social Services have officially relinquished them to us."

There was a sound of shuffling papers. "Blah blah, 'Alexander Curtis officially released into the care of Samuel Curtis on behalf of CI5.' The wording on the other papers is the same, just changing the names."

"Yes, sir, Adam Keel released to Christopher Keel."

"Yes, sir, very flattering I thought."

"..."

"Sir, when you said we'd take care of them, I assumed you meant a CI5 safehouse—"

"No, sir, there's been no sign of anyone showing any interest in the boys."

"Yes, sir, Backup checked over my home security system last month, and as far as I know Chris's meets spec as well."

"Yes, sir, they do seem OK with us."

"Yes, sir. I know them well enough to spot them lying by now."

"..."

"Yes, sir."

Sam closed his phone with a snap. "You bastard, sir," he said to it.

Chris looked over. "What's up with the Great White Chief?"

Sam glowered. "The good news is that he likes their choice of names..."


	3. Chapter 3

"Here we are. Just give me a moment to get the door open."

Adam leant against the wall, breathing hard, as Chris fished some keys out of his pocket. He'd managed to make it up the stairs through sheer stubbornness, but he was beginning to think that might have been a mistake. He had walked more in physiotherapy, he knew that for a fact, but apparently stairs were a whole different kettle of fish and his legs were telling him in no uncertain terms to sit down.

"Here you go." Suddenly Chris had an arm around his shoulders and was taking most of his weight. Adam thought vaguely of objecting as he was steered into the flat, but pride could only get him so far. Besides, Chris was taking this whole 'being responsible for him' bit very seriously, and Adam didn't reckon he was going to be allowed to push himself any further.

"Believe me, I know how hard those stairs are when you're fresh out of hospital. The number of times Sam has had to practically carry me up them..." Chris chuckled. "He reckons I should move somewhere with a lift. I think he needs more exercise."

Adam managed a weak smile as they staggered across the room. "Either that or you need to lose weight."

"Hey, who's helping who here?"

Adam sighed in relief as he was lowered into a chair. "Oh, that's better. Thanks."

Chris smiled at him again. "Yeah, I know how that feels. I'll make us some coffee." With that he disappeared through another doorway, and Adam stopped trying to pretend that his legs weren't killing him.

At first sight, Adam couldn't make up his mind whether or not he liked Chris' flat. It was spacious, which was probably good, but Adam wondered why he felt so ambivalent about that. It was as untidy as hell, which cheered him up no end. Apparently it didn't have an upstairs, which would be good for his legs but just felt wrong. The only decent-sized space outside was a graveyard, which was wrong on so many counts. And it was going to be his home for the foreseeable future.

Yeah, sure.

Oh, he liked Chris, at least as much as he knew him, but this wasn't home. It felt all wrong, he didn't recognise half of the stuff in it — what were all those flat square boxes anyway? — and it didn't have a single thing in it that made him feel safe.

"How d'you take your coffee?" Chris called.

Adam opened his mouth to reply, realised that he had no idea what the question meant, and shut it again. "I... I don't know. I don't know, damn it!" Angrily he rubbed at his eyes, determined that he wasn't going to cry. He was big enough and ugly enough, he could cope on his own... but all the same he didn't resist as strong arms pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry," Chris said. "I should've thought." He rubbed Adam's back soothingly as Adam pulled himself back together.

"Is it always going to be like this?"

"No." Chris said it so confidently that Adam couldn't help but stare at him in astonishment. "Even if you don't remember anything from before, what you're building here and now will stay with you. You don't need to know who you were to know who you are."

It wasn't nearly as comforting as Chris probably hoped, Adam thought, but it was better than nothing. And apparently there was one thing in this flat that made him feel safe after all.

"So," Adam said eventually. "Coffee?"

"I'll bring in the milk and sugar and we'll experiment," Chris told him with a grin.

******

"I just talk into it?" Alec asked cautiously.

Sam smiled wryly at his charge, who was lying back on the sofa attempting a pose of Byronic lassitude. Successfully, Sam had to admit. "You have to dial the right number first," he explained, pressing the phone into Alec's hand. "Luckily for you, I programmed Chris's number into the phone's memory. Just press that button there, then '1'."

Alec did as he was directed, looked a little startled then put the phone to his ear. "It's making a funny noise," he said. Sam nodded encouragingly. "Oh! Hello? This is Alec, who... oh yes, of course, Sam said... Yes please. What do you mean, 'put him on'? Adam! Are you OK?"

Sam stepped back to give his charge the illusion of privacy and hid a smile. Alec was a huge snob and tried to pretend that being interested in anything that was going on was beneath him, but Sam had watched him begin to grow out of that in the past few weeks in hospital. He was starting to allow Sam to see when he was worried or excited, something he'd taken great pains to conceal when he had first woken up. Right now, he was excited to be talking to his friend and didn't care if Sam knew.

It had to be his upbringing, Sam reckoned; Alec seemed to have had a hard time accepting that anyone was actually concerned about him as a person, and had taken a lot of his cues from Adam. Adam, on the other hand, hadn't seemed to know what to do about being the centre of attention, and had palmed it off on Alec at every opportunity. It had been odd watching the two of them change each other as they tried to define who they were. The one thing that Sam drew from that time was the certainty that underneath all the crap they'd been through, both of them were good kids.

"That's 'telephone', idiot," Alec was saying affectionately. "From the Greek 'tele', meaning distant, and 'phonos', sound."

Interesting, Sam thought. Was that just a fact Alec had picked up randomly, or did he actually know Greek? If he did, that implied an old-fashioned public school education, and there were precious few schools that still taught Ancient Greek. He'd have to do some gentle probing to find out what languages Alec knew to what level, but if he was right that could narrow down the possibilities to the point where it was feasible for CI5 to go school to school in an attempt to identify the boys.

It probably wasn't a good idea to tell them what he was thinking, Sam realised. Alec wasn't nearly as secure and self-confident as he liked to pretend, and right now he needed something solid to rely on. That was part of the reason Sam had let him at the phone in the first place; knowing that he could easily talk to Adam whenever he wanted was one of the more reassuring things Sam could think of. Building Alec's hopes up would be cruel if the idea didn't pan out, and he was the sort to take that disappointment very much to heart.

"No, he's hovering around me too," Alec said, giving Sam a pointed look. "If this is their idea of 'subtle', we're all in big trouble."

Sam grinned openly. "I'll leave you to your gossip, then. How about a light salad for lunch?" Alec waved him away with a nod and a smile of his own, concentrating intently on something Adam was saying.

Typical teenage behaviour, Sam thought as he headed into the kitchen. Maybe introducing him to the phone had its drawbacks. At least Alec appreciated healthy eating and seemed to regard 'proper food' as mandatory, something Sam could only approve of. Quite how Adam was going to manage with Chris's idea of food he hated to think.

*****

Chris opened his beer, leaned back in his chair and relaxed for the first time that day. Adam was in bed, tired out early from the exertions of moving in and the demands of his still recovering body, and Chris was surprised to discover how exhausting it had been just keeping tabs on him, even given his experience with surveillance jobs. It wouldn't be long before he'd be asleep himself, but he had a few things to do yet. Like tidying up a little, maybe; given how unsteady Adam still was when he was tired, the stuff littering his flat actually constituted a problem for once.

It was funny what Adam knew and what he didn't, Chris reflected. Sometimes he knew the oddest details, like how West Ham had been doing at soccer all year. Chris, as an American, had professed total ignorance of British sports. He had been a bit surprised when Adam had told him football was OK but not terribly exciting, then couldn't remember what he did like. Then the telephone had been a source of wonder to him, as the TV had been when Chris first badgered the hospital into providing the boys with one.

At least Adam liked TV, and could even keep it fairly straight what was drama and what was real. They'd had a slightly awkward moment explaining Big Brother, which Chris agreed was a pretty stupid idea, but it had made the rest of the evening pass quickly. Chris hated to think what Sam and Alec had gone through, since neither of them watched much TV by preference. Probably something wildly exciting like reading books.

Adam also liked pizza, which was a big plus in Chris's book. Though quite how pizza could be a novelty to him as it clearly had been... no, amnesia was weird. There was no sense in dwelling on it; he didn't want to upset Adam yet again when he'd found something they both enjoyed. They'd have to investigate some of the nearby take-out places later in the week, and hopefully one of those would trigger some memories.

Adam seemed to be settling in well, anyway. Chris hadn't been looking forward to having someone else invading his space, but he had got lucky with Adam. Maybe he'd become a problem as he grew fitter, but on the whole Chris didn't think so. Adam shared a lot of Chris's opinions — or at least was willing to consider them — and Chris had been pleasantly surprised at how well they got on. It helped a lot that Adam was pretty easy going, though Chris suspected that there was a stubborn streak in him that Chris just hadn't fallen foul of yet. Not that he was exactly a shining beacon in that regard himself, at least not if Sam was to be believed.

No, Adam was a good kid. Also one hell of a responsibility, and Chris still wasn't quite sure how he felt about becoming effectively an adoptive dad. What the hell had Malone been thinking of? True, trouble had never actually come calling for either himself or Sam while they were at home, but that didn't mean it wouldn't. There was an intrinsic danger to the boys just living with them, never mind what could yet arise from whatever they'd been mixed up in. That made Chris as nervous as hell, particularly given that they couldn't exactly stay at home all day to look after the boys. Malone had detached him and Sam for a few days to make sure the kids settled in OK, but after that it would be back to business as usual. Not exactly the kind of nurturing family environment Chris would have preferred.

Chris drained his beer and sighed. Responsibility sucked. He eyed the pizza boxes that really did have to go out now. Yes, it sucked for sure.

******

Well, that was humiliating. Alec couldn't remember ever being more... but that was the problem wasn't it? Alec couldn't remember anything. He couldn't even remember how to turn off a light, and since he was too proud to mention it he'd lain in his bed until Sam had come in and flipped the switch for him. He didn't know where he'd got the idea that lights either went off by themselves or you told them to, which meant that he couldn't even trust the things he thought he remembered.

He could remember languages, for some reason. Sam had tested him out, presumably as a way of keeping his mind off other things. He had held his own in French, Latin, Greek (but not modern Greek, apparently) and even a bit of German. Sam had looked impressed, anyway, and Alec had come to appreciate that he didn't get that reaction easily. On the other hand, given Sam's appraising look, Alec suspected that he had just signed up for many more language lessons.

At least the idea of lessons was familiar. Pretty much nothing else was. If Alec had thought he was confused while he was in hospital, now he knew how completely out of his depth he was. From the moment he'd been wheeled outside, seen Sam's car and not had the faintest idea what it was, the entire world seemed to have been thrown at him in one go.

It was much too much to handle and it was all new. If Adam hadn't been there stoicly refusing to collapse, Alec was sure he would have lost his composure and never found it again. The car was unfamiliar, being driven was unfamiliar, the roads and the streets and the signs and the bustle were positively frightening, and everything about the flat was strange and wrong. Sam's quiet reassurance and refusal to judge him, that was so unexpected that it nearly broke him down.

Quite why Sam's opinion meant so much to him, Alec wasn't sure. He'd come to respect Sam obviously, otherwise he wouldn't have picked Sam's surname when that dreadful woman had threatened to take him away. He'd been delighted when Sam had said he'd be living with him, but worried that Sam seemed to have reservations. He'd been scared of not living up to Sam's standards, he'd realised. He still was.

Lying in the dark, Alec understood. He was an emotional basket-case, uncertain of everything and liable to burst into tears at any moment. Anyone in their right mind would be dubious about taking someone like that into their home. Sam was tolerating him for now, but Alec knew he was a disappointment. Eventually Sam would get bored when Alec's memory didn't come back (and he was sure it wouldn't) and Alec carried on failing to cope (and he was sure he would), and then it would all be over. He knew how that went.

Finally alone, finally stressed past breaking point, Alec cried himself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chris scowled at Sam. "'Let's take them shopping,'" he said sarcastically, "'It'll be good for them.' Yeah, sure. You're trying to break my back, aren't you?"

"They need more clothes," Sam said firmly. "They had what we bought them for coming out of hospital and that was pretty much it. Besides, this way they get to make some choices for themselves, they get some light exercise they actually want to do, and they ease back a bit further into the real world. Think of it as therapy."

"Retail therapy," Chris grumbled. "You might have mentioned who'd be carrying all those choices of theirs."

"And where would the fun have been in that?" Sam asked, passing Chris another bag.

While he wasn't as grumpy as he was making out, Chris wasn't exactly ecstatic to be playing pack horse. Particularly not since Alec and Adam seemed intent on buying half of every store they entered once they understood what the object of the exercise was and that CI5 was paying. Chris didn't mind clothes shopping when he had to, or when he was buying himself something special as a treat, but trying to fill two whole wardrobes in one afternoon seemed like a bit much. Sam was definitely going to fill in the expenses claim for this one.

"How do I look?" Adam asked, appearing somewhat reluctantly from the changing rooms. He was wearing the latest set of 'posh casual' as he termed it that Alec had bullied him into: a white summer light jacket over a yellow-gold silk shirt, pale brown slacks and a deep red cravat. He wouldn't have looked out of place in the yacht clubs of Chris's youth.

Before either of the adults could comment, Alec sighed deeply. "You were right," he said, "the cravat doesn't work. It just isn't you." He was still dressed in his latest casual choice, a forest green polo shirt and grey trousers.

Adam removed the offending garment. "See," he said, "I do know what I'm talking about."

"You still have all the colour sense of a blind man. Now let me think a minute, I'm not absolutely sure about the jacket. It makes your hair look a bit washed out and you haven't really got the complexion to pull off white." Alec looked round the store pensively as Adam shared a long-suffering look with Chris, then picked out a light brown corduroy jacket that matched the slacks. "Here, try this."

Adam dutifully switched jackets. "Hey, this stuff's really soft!"

"It looks good on you too," Sam said encouragingly.

"Much better," Alec agreed. "If you stick to reds, browns and golds you won't go far wrong."

"Not black?" Chris asked, tolerantly amused at how much of a fashion fascist Alec was turning out to be.

"Everybody looks good in black," Alec told him. "That's a given."

"OK, I think it's time we moved on to everyday wear."

Alec looked at Chris. "This is everyday wear," he said.

"I meant T-shirt and jeans," Chris clarified. "Stuff that you can have on to do chores and laze around."

Alec narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Chris, but Adam suddenly looked much happier. "Proper clothes," he said. "Come on, even you can't be that much of a clothes horse."

In a startlingly short time Adam had poked and prodded Alec into trying on a couple of different pairs of jeans and a whole string of tops. "It's not like there's any difference," he admitted to Chris after quickly settling on some for himself, "but revenge is sweet."

"Go on," Alec muttered as he emerged from the changing rooms, "have your fun." He winced as he saw the T-shirt Adam was holding. "Lime green with your hair? Are you sure you aren't colour blind?"

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it again. "OK, there is a difference," he said finally. "I don't know what it is, but that definitely looks good on you."

"I feel like everything's on view," Alec grumbled. He gestured down at the figure-hugging jeans and simple white T-shirt he had on. "They're too tight, I can barely breathe."

"It's a classic," Sam told him.

"If you've got it, flaunt it," Chris agreed. Even being petulant, Alec was managing to look stunning. Sam was going to have to buy a club to beat the girls off with. All he needed to complete the look was...

Wordlessly, Adam handed Alec a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He put a pair on himself and stood next to his friend in front of one of the shop mirrors.

"We've got it," Alec agreed.

******

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Adam rolled his eyes at Sam. "Yes, mum. Somehow or other we'll survive the wild excitement of spending the day at home without adult supervision." Honestly, the man could be such a worry-wart at times. Adam really didn't know how Alec put up with it.

"Is there anywhere in particular you'd like me to bury his body?" Alec asked brightly.

"Hey!" Chris held up a warning finger. "I'm the only one who's allowed to kill him."

"Great help you are," Sam muttered. "Remember, don't go out, don't open the door for anyone, and if in doubt, phone us. There's plenty of food in the kitchen," he said, giving Alec a meaningful look that had Adam mildly worried about what he was going to be made to eat. "Alec knows where everything is, so just take it easy and enjoy the day. We should be back some time after six, God and Malone willing, so we'll see you then. And remember..."

"If in doubt, phone you," the boys chorused.

"You think they got the message?" Chris asked, stepping aside quickly as Sam swatted at him.

"Okay, are you ready?"

"Sam..." Alec paused, seemingly lost for a moment. Then a determined look settled on his face and he surprised Sam with a hug. Adam knew how he felt. He looked questioningly at Chris, who smiled and opened his arms. Then next thing Adam knew he was clinging to Chris for dear life. It was a good minute before he could force himself to let go.

"Right," Alec said, not quite managing to sound decisive. "You'd better get going, or we'll get the blame for you being late."

"See you later," Chris called, almost dragging Sam out of the apartment.

They stood there for a while, until they couldn't hear voices or footsteps any more.

"Well," Adam said eventually, "this is weird."

Alec paused, then smiled slowly. "You know, I think this is the first time we've been on our own since we woke up," he mused aloud.

"Yes, that would be why it's weird."

Alec rolled his eyes. "I'll say that again more slowly. This is the first time we've been on our own since we woke up. With money in our pockets just in case everything in the kitchen turns out to be inedible."

Adam looked from Alec to the door and back again. He grinned. "I'll get me coat."

Alec grinned back, grabbing his own jacket from where it was hanging on the back of the door. Then he stopped. "Or not," he said, sounding a little pained.

Coat half on, Adam looked over to see what the problem was. Alec was staring at a small note carefully stuck to the door where they couldn't have seen it earlier. "'I meant it about not going out,'" Adam read aloud.

"I expect he'll phone in ten minutes just to be sure," Alec muttered.

"Sounds like a safe bet." It wasn't fair, Adam thought. They were grown men, fit and healthy enough to be left on their own, and they weren't even being trusted to do what they were told. Not that they were going to, but it was the principle of the thing. "We could go anyway?"

He got a withering look from Alec. "And catch hell when we get back," he said firmly. "If we get back; don't forget that just because we don't know what was going on when that warehouse went up doesn't mean that other people know that we don't know, and if they think that we do know then they might want to make sure that we can't tell what we don't know—"

"Hang on, you lost me a 'don't know' or two back."

"We're safer here," Alec summarised. "This place is protected; can't you feel it?"

He could, actually. He knew in his bones that this apartment, like Chris's flat, was a refuge. The outside world would have to make a hell of an effort to get to them here. He knew it in the same way that he knew rain was wet, so it had never occurred to him to mention it before.

"Of course," he said, "I'm not stupid. I just..."

They were quiet again for a moment.

"Yeah," Alec agreed. Adam wasn't quite sure what he was agreeing to, but it was nice to know he wasn't the only one feeling adrift here.

"So, are you going to give me the grand tour then?"

Alec shook himself out of his reverie. "Welcome to Chateau Curtis," he said. "There's not a lot to see, actually. Sitting room, kitchen, bathroom, Sam's bedroom, my bedroom." He waved vaguely to indicate each one. "The bedrooms are out of bounds unless you want to die a horribly gruesome death at my hands, so we're down to music and DVDs."

"And books," Adam said, looking round the lounge. It wasn't quite lined with bookshelves, but it was close. "You've got a lot of books here."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Adam stared at Alec, who looked back quizzically. "Okay," he said slowly, "I think we can safely say you're someone who's used to being around entire libraries full of books."

Alec looked rather pleased. "And you aren't?"

"I'm getting a headache just thinking about them."

"How about the music?" Alec asked, pointing out the shelves stacked with CDs.

Adam walked over and started rummaging. Several minutes later he sighed in defeat. "Sorry, the only things that are ringing bells are the ones Chris has too."

"I suppose you're not a music person then. Not that I am either," Alec admitted ruefully.

"Hey, what's this?" The bottom unit of shelving was actually a small cupboard. The boxes it contained looked far more promising than the music had; perhaps, Adam thought, today wasn't going to be so boring after all. "Look what I've found."

Alec looked from the chess set to Adam in astonishment. "You play?"

"I'm not completely stupid, you know."

Alec waved away the implied insult. "Sam claimed he never was much good, and the set's only there because he hasn't thrown it away yet. If you don't mind being beaten into the ground, though..."

"Hah, you wish." Both boys were grinning, though. This at least was familiar, and Adam was practically bouncing with excitement at finding something that definitely triggered a memory.

They set up the board quickly, Adam ending up with the white pieces. "I'll try not to make this hurt too much," he told his friend. "Pawn to king four."

"I'm shocked and agog at such an unorthodox opening," Alec said sarcastically.

There was a pause as both of them looked at the board. "Pawn to king's four," Adam repeated, slowly and clearly this time. Nothing happened.

"I didn't break it," Alec said nervously.

"Maybe it was broken before we started. You said Sam was going to throw it away after all, and I did think it was a bit quiet when we set it up."

"Maybe, but I'm not going to be the one to tell Sam."

Adam sighed and hoped he wasn't going to be in big trouble for this. "Well at least we can still play. Pawn to king four," he announced, picking up the offending pawn and moving it forward.

Alec rolled his eyes. "I heard you the first time. Pawn to queen four." After a moment Adam coughed pointedly, and Alec rather sheepishly moved his own pawn forward.

"Trying to rattle me are you?" Adam smiled as he said it, and was glad to hear an answering laugh from Alec. Then he buckled down to seeing what he could remember of the Queen's Gambit.

******

"This was a bad idea," Alec muttered to himself.

When Sam and Chris had come home and announced that they'd be eating out tonight, Alec's first thought was of a classic French restaurant; beautiful food, fine wines, silver tableware, cut crystal glasses and full service. He'd earned it, after all. In the last week or so, admittedly with help from Adam, he'd grudgingly mastered not only the dish washer, the vacuum cleaner and the washing machine (with some minor provisos about separating coloured clothes from whites), he'd also learned the basic principles of oven cleaner, furniture polish and sundry other household sprays. Granted that mastery was still mostly theoretical, given that Alec had deep-seated objections to being treated as anyone's servant, even his fa— er, Sam's, but still he felt that he had made great strides in reacquainting himself with modern technology and that surely merited some sort of celebration.

Visions of chandeliers and string quartets which probably owed more to Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers than any actual memory of Alec's were however dashed when Sam told him not to bother changing for dinner. And while he was on the subject, 'dinner' wasn't the term Alec would use for some obviously frozen rather than fresh fish armoured in batter, a plastic sachet of fairly awful tartare sauce, some distinctly overcooked vegetables and a basket of chips which Adam ate most of anyway.

That was the best the pub had to offer, though, and like it or not they were going to the _Dog and Duck_ this evening with an ungodly amount of CI5 in tow. Apparently this was the night they were supposed to be on show to Sam and Chris's colleagues, and frankly Alec could have done with some warning. The whole thing was getting to him, whether it was not protesting about the food or just being out of the house. There were too many people, too much noise, and too much smoke for him to be at all comfortable. Even though everyone nearby was familiar and Sam was only a couple of feet away, he couldn't help but feel nervous.

"You need to relax," Adam told him. "Here."

Alec looked down at the pint glass that had suddenly appeared in front of him, then raised an eyebrow at his overexcited friend.

"Tina's convinced we're legal," Adam confided, taking a sip from his own pint. Alec was amused when he grimaced, shot a glance sideways to make sure Chris hadn't been looking, then tried to look like he was enjoying the drink. "It's very... bitter," he said uncertainly.

"That would account for the name." Alec waved to Tina Backus before taking a careful sip, giving the flavours time to run over his tongue before he swallowed. Not bad, he decided; he preferred wine, but beer clearly had its points even if it wasn't nearly as refined. "There's a lot of hops in it," he said approvingly, "probably with enough of a soporific effect to cancel out the aggressiveness of the alcohol." Whoever brewed this stuff knew what they were doing.

Adam took another sip, managing not to grimace this time. "If you say so," he said dubiously. "You know, it sort of grows on you."

"It's not bad," Alec agreed. He took another sip. "Quite a bold taste, actually."

"If you start on about fruity bouquets and south-facing vineyards, no one's going to believe you," said a dark-skinned man neither of the boys had seen before. Both of them looked at him cautiously, unconsciously edging a little closer to Chris and Sam.

"Adrian Spencer," the man said sticking out his hand. "I do research and logistics, so I'm usually stuck in Operations."

Alec recovered himself enough to shake Spencer's hand and turn on the charm. "Ah, that would be why we didn't see you in the hospital." Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Adam look across to Chris. Hopefully he was checking that this Spencer was legitimate; Alec vaguely remembered Sam mentioning the name, but not having a description he didn't want to take chances. "Tell me," he asked, trying to buy Adam some time, "are our... I mean, are Sam and Chris as impossible to organise as they seem?"

Spencer, if it was him, laughed. "It's all I can do to keep up with where they are, never mind what they're doing."

Alec was spared having to come up with any more small talk as Adam shook hands as well. "So you're the 'Spence' that Chris is always whinging about. It's good to meet you. I'm Adam, by the way, and this prat who can't be bothered to introduce himself is Alec."

Which was confirmation that this man was who he said he was, Alec thought, if Adam had any sense at all. "Prat?" he asked with a smile. "Which one of us had the manners to say hello first?"

"Nice bit of teamwork," Spencer commented. Adam grinned, while Alec did his best to look innocent. "How are you settling in?"

Adam shrugged. "It's nice to see something that isn't the inside of a hospital, and we've pretty much got rid of all the aches and pains by now."

"I meant living with Chris and Sam."

"We're surviving," Alec allowed. He wasn't entirely sure how much he wanted to say to this man about his home life. Sam was quite a private person, he had come to realise, and he was stretching himself to share his home with Alec. He wouldn't appreciate the details of his private life becoming CI5 gossip any more than Alec did. All the same, if he didn't want to draw attention to this by clamming up totally, he needed to let something innocuous slip. "Sam's teaching me how to cook."

"The world trembles," Adam put in. "And stocks up on indigestion p— medicine."

Alec threw him a dirty look. "As if I was careless enough to poison anyone accidentally. Deliberately, on the other hand, is starting to look very tempting in certain cases."

Adam clutched his throat dramatically. "Argh! Fortunately I have some antidote near at hand." He took a big drink from his pint glass, grinning Alec and Spencer. "Wow, this stuff really does taste better the more you drink of it."

"You are going to be plastered by the end of the evening," Spencer predicted.

Adam flashed Alec a serious, questioning look. Was it safe, Alec interpreted to himself. He looked quickly around the bar — no one seemed to be paying undue attention to them, and they were in the middle of a bunch of CI5 agents. That should mean that they didn't have to take too much care of their own safety, not that Alec planned to let his guard down anyway. He nodded slightly.

The brief smile he got back surprised him. As Adam started distracting Spencer with extravagant claims about his alcohol tolerance, Alec thought a bit about what had just happened. Teamwork, Spencer had said earlier. They'd just done it again, splitting responsibilities and making decisions as a team, just like Sam said he and Chris did, all without actually talking.

It was oddly satisfying knowing someone well enough to do that, Alec thought. The converse, that Adam knew him well enough was something that would have sent him running into hiding even a week ago. Now, for some reason, the prospect didn't seem nearly so scary. Maybe it was the stories Sam had started telling him about life in CI5, but Alec was beginning to find the idea of working together with someone quite appealing. The fact that it was Adam, someone every bit as alone in the world as he was, who had just casually trusted Alec to watch his back, that made it all the better.

It felt good to be trusted.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Malone put the file down on his desk, sat back, folded his spectacles and looked at the two young men standing uneasily in front of him. Alec Curtis and Adam Keel promised to be as much of a handful as the agents he had assigned them to. He was certainly developing a headache grappling with the issues that their continued presence raised.

Agents 4-5 and 3-7 were also present for this debriefing, no doubt intending to supply immoral support to their charges. Malone was well enough versed in the ways of his people to read the tiny signals of their anxiety, but anyone else would merely see two men standing quietly to one side. He suppressed a smile; given the protectiveness both of them tended to exhibit, this would be an interesting test of their discipline as well as that of the children.

"I am informed, gentlemen, that you still have no clear memories of any period before your awakening in hospital. Is that still the case?" Malone put a distinct hint of displeasure into his rich English accent. His agents had doubtless trodden softly to gain the boys' trust, allowing him by contrast to play the ogre. A firm believer in tough love, Malone had no problem with that at all.

The boys' immediate reaction was intriguing. A flare of anger and resentment crossed Adam's face, while Alec actually relaxed a little, though he still stood as tall and proud as before. Adam breathed in as if to protest, quickly enough that Malone was quite certain it was a reflex rather than a conscious decision. Certainly he thought better of it, leaving Alec to reply.

"I'm afraid so, sir. There are things that we simply know, but they don't seem to have any specific memories to go with them."

"Like the rules of chess," Adam supplied.

Malone glared at him until he subsided, then switched his attention back to Alec. "In your own words, Mr Curtis, what sorts of things do you 'simply know'?"

"A variety of things, sir, and about half of them are wrong anyway. For example, I somehow had the idea that pumpkin juice is an easily available soft drink. I was sure I knew exactly what it tastes like, but we haven't been able to find it in any shop. On the other hand, Adam's right, we do both know a lot of the standard chess openings to a reasonable depth." He paused for a moment. "I can speak French, Adam knows the rules of football, little things like that."

"And academically speaking? You mentioned languages, how are your skills at other academic subjects?"

Alec grimaced. "Poor, sir," he said grudgingly. "Some bits of mathematics are vaguely familiar, the only science I know anything about is botany, and everything else is completely blank."

"And you?" Malone looked questioningly at Adam.

"History makes me fall asleep?"

Malone's gaze narrowed. "Don't be cheeky, boy," he barked.

"No, honestly sir," Adam said with a faux innocent look far too reminiscent of his foster father to be an accident. "I seem to associate 'history' with hiding behind a book and sleeping."

"Any other highlights of your academic career?" Malone asked scathingly.

Adam's face darkened. He opened his mouth to reply, then stopped; Malone didn't fail to notice the twitch that happened to send Alec's hand into brief contact with Adam's at that moment. "No, sir," Adam said sullenly after a brief pause. "Not unless you count folklore or chess as academic."

"Folklore?" Malone asked in surprise. This hadn't come up in his agents' earlier reports.

"Stuff about dragons and werewolves and things like that. What they're suppose to be like, what they do, and so on. Both of us seem to know odds and ends, mostly the same things."

"That's a somewhat unusual curriculum subject," Malone observed. "Does your knowledge correspond to particular fictional examples of such creatures, part of a literature course perhaps?"

Both boys thought about it. "Uh, I don't know," Adam said eventually. "Maybe. I don't remember anything specific about a book, but I don't remember stuff about books anyway." He looked at Alec, who shook his head.

"Speak to Mr Spencer afterwards," Malone told them. "I believe he has an extensive collection of fantasy literature judging by some of the more outlandish operation names he has devised. This information could be of significant use in determining where you were schooled," he continued with a frown. "It is very remiss of you not to have brought it up earlier."

"Sorry, sir," Alec said almost instantly, another reflex Malone was intrigued to note. "It's just that..." He trailed off, looking at Adam for support.

"Embarrassment would be the least of your problems had your actions caused the waste of significant resources," Malone interrupted. "I do not take kindly to such behaviour, gentlemen. Do I make myself clear?"

By this point, Alec was losing his reserve and beginning to look a little scared, although he was still standing bolt upright and trying hard to conceal his feelings. "Yes, sir," he said carefully. "It won't happen again, sir." Adam nodded his agreement stiffly.

"Good." Malone softened his tone. "Now, let us examine this problem from the opposite direction. You have been living with Mr Curtis and Mr Keel respectively for some time now. Has anything in your domestic arrangements struck you as particularly unfamiliar?"

"Almost everything, sir." Alec looked lost for a moment before managing to pull himself together, and Malone was inclined to believe that was an honest reaction. "Sam had to show me what things were, what he expected me to do..." He trailed off in slight distaste, and Malone caught the faint hint of a smile on Sam's face. Reports of young Mr Curtis's vehement objections to housework had kept the office amused for days. "I think I was expecting our home to be bigger," Alec finished with a frown.

"Interesting. Mr Keel?"

"I didn't have it quite as bad as Alec," Adam said with a poorly concealed smirk. He, by all reports, had done no more than standard teenage grumbling about being made to clean up. To a certain extent Malone sympathised; Chris Keel was chronically untidy where anything apart from weapons was concerned. "I didn't recognise stuff or what to do with it, but I wasn't surprised when Chris told me. Um, I sometimes think it's a bit quiet, though."

Malone folded his hands. "I take it," he said pointedly, "that your present home life has failed to shake loose any memories of your previous family life?"

Adam looked mildly panicked. "Yes, I mean no, I mean... no memories, sir."

No explicit memories perhaps, Malone thought, but the assumptions embedded in what the boys had said were quite informative. Time to shift the nature of his questioning, Malone thought. Thus far he had been probing on topics that the boys would find unsettling if they were telling the truth about their continued amnesia. There was a far bigger problem, however, that his agents had been wilfully ignoring up to this point.

"I take it that you have settled into your homes satisfactorily?" he asked. Both boys nodded. "Then it's long past time we considered your futures. Let us suppose that your memories do not return, at least in the medium term. Given your lack of qualifications and academic knowledge, you will not be able to enter higher education. That same lack will severely limit the jobs you could apply for. Have you even remotely considered what you are going to do?"

From the look on Adam's face he hadn't considered any of this, and he wasn't liking it now that he had to. Good, Malone thought; if Adam was off-balance and under pressure, there was a much better chance that his reactions would be honest ones.

Alec, by contrast, had carefully wiped all emotion off his face. He clearly had considered the matter. "Yes, sir," he said.

Malone ignored him in favour of Adam. "Mr Keel?"

"No sir, I, uh..." Adam trailed off, glancing over at Chris for help. Malone was pleased to see both of his agents holding themselves very still; dressing them down in front of the boys would have been a distraction he had no time for at the present. Adam tried again. "Were you thinking of something, sir?"

Malone looked at him coldly. "By what authority should I be choosing your future for you?"

"I meant, maybe you could—"

"No, Mr Keel, I could not," Malone said sharply. "CI5 is neither an educational establishment nor a charity. At some date both of you will be declared legally adult. When that time comes, my agents may choose to continue supporting you; however their jobs involve long, irregular hours, unexpected travel, and covert operations that certainly do not allow for dragging around two unskilled young men. If you cannot determine how to provide for yourselves in the future, neither they nor I will be in a position to assist."

"When you put it like that, we don't have any prospects," Alec said bitterly.

Malone ignored him, still concentrating on Adam. "I'm still waiting for your answer, Mr Keel. What do you intend to do if your memory does not return?"

"I don't know!" Adam shouted. He took a breath and managed to get a grip on himself. "I don't know, sir," he said more quietly. "Unless you know someone who'd teach us, we're stuffed."

"And you, Mr Curtis? Do you have anything intelligent to add to this discussion?" Malone kept his tone sharp, deliberately trying to goad Alec into talking before thinking.

"I'm not stupid, sir!" Alec snapped, then stopped abruptly. " _We're_ not stupid, sir," he said quietly but firmly, "and neither are you. You wouldn't have asked the question if you didn't have something in mind already."

An interesting response, Malone thought, if not quite accurate. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr Curtis," he said drily, "but CI5 still has no interest in untrained agents."

"So train us," Adam challenged.

Malone didn't bat an eyelid. "CI5 recruits are typically considerably older people who have already proven themselves more than capable in the police, intelligence agencies or armed forces," he said. "Quite apart from which, at present you represent an unjustifiable security risk. As far as your history and background are concerned you are completely unknown quantities, and for all the evidence I have at present you could have loyalties not remotely compatible with our objectives. No, gentlemen, you have a lot to prove before I could even begin to consider to consider you as potential agents."

The boys' reaction to this insult to their integrity went much as Malone had imagined, and very much as their respective guardians tended to operate. Adam, his face nearly as red as his hair opened his mouth to let rip. He shut it again when Alec trod heavily on his foot.

"You have my word, sir, that we have no such loyalties." Alec paused for a moment. "Or at least we aren't aware of any such loyalties, which is an equally useless statement to you."

Malone couldn't entirely suppress a smile at that. Young Mr Curtis appeared to be trying to have it both ways, standing on his honour while admitting he had no memory of whether or not he had any. Not that, as head of CI5, Malone had much use for honour in any case.

"I strongly recommend that you consider what practical steps to take about this as a matter of urgency."

Adam muttered something inaudible, but Alec spoke quickly before Malone could call him on it. "Given what you've said, there's only one plausible course of action as far as I can see. We need to find ourselves private tutors to fill in the gaps in our knowledge. With parental permission, of course," he finished, nodding to Sam and Chris.

Malone stared narrowly at Alec. Whilst correct, something about the young man's tone of voice suggested that Alec had something specific in mind, something that he didn't think Malone would like. If it was what Malone suspected, he wouldn't mind at all as long as the boys didn't attempt to take lessons from all of his agents. Eventually he gave a short nod. "Very well, I'm sure you will find an ingenious solution. Now Ms Backus and Mr Spencer have some more specific questions which may help uncover your background. Run along," he said, gesturing at the door as the boys looked a little dazed at their abrupt dismissal, "I need to have words with your guardians."

The atmosphere in the office palpably changed as the door shut behind the boys. Sam Curtis and Chris Keel became considerably more animated, and didn't trouble to hide their concern any longer.

"Was that strictly necessary, sir?"

Interesting, Malone thought, that it was the normally reserved Curtis who broke the silence. Clearly he was forming a greater emotional attachment than he cared to admit or than Malone had anticipated. Both men were, in fact, and Malone wondered briefly if he had miscalculated. Giving two of his best agents a large vulnerability in the shape of their foster children had not been part of his intentions.

"You know full well that it was, Mr Curtis. We had to be certain that their convenient amnesia was not feigned."

"Yeah, but we didn't exactly learn anything else about them," Keel said pointedly.

"On the contrary, we have learned a great deal. At least one person that they both interact with, most likely a teacher, understands the meaning of the word 'discipline', approves of Alec and disapproves of Adam. Mr Curtis is most likely an only child, while Mr Keel comes from a large and active family. And I strongly suspect that whatever their current relationship, they were not previously close friends."

Keel frowned. "They do bicker a lot," he admitted, "but even Sam and I do that."

"I was thinking more of your earlier reports about their probable social background and attitudes to money." Or in less polite terms, Alec initially bore all the hallmarks of the stinking rich while Adam seemed to assume that there was no money to spend and resisted accepting charity from others. Both had moderated their attitudes considerably in the last few weeks, probably in deference to their foster parents, but if that was indicative of their prior lives then there was bound to have been friction between them.

"Sir," Curtis asked, "about their futures?" He paused.

Malone gave him a measured glance. "I still have no intention of recruiting children into CI5," he said firmly.

"I wouldn't want you to," Sam said hurriedly.

"Your charges seem to think differently, and I'm afraid they may have taken my refusal as a challenge."

Sam winced. "Well, with any luck they'll forget about it by the time we manage to get them through some GCSEs."

"I'm not so sure they'll be so easy to deter," Chris said reluctantly. "I don't want to see them getting into trouble any more than you do," a clear case of the pot calling the kettle black, Malone thought, "but I've got a bad feeling they're used to fighting. Remember last Tuesday, when you dropped a plate in the kitchen?" Sam nodded. "They both went to Defcon 3. They were out of their seats and scanning for trouble before they even realised what they were doing, and I swear they looked like they were reaching for weapons. If they've got reflexes like that, they're used to carrying a knife or a gun or something, and having to use it."

Malone scowled. "Coupled with their amnesia, that is not a reassuring observation, Mr Keel. One can only hope that we are not looking at another Burgess and McLean."

"The sad thing," Keel said, "is that we've seen weirder."

********

"Sorry to keep putting you through this," Tina Backus said apologetically.

Alec Curtis nodded at her tiredly. "I understand why you're doing it," he said, "but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it." The young man was trying to keep his irritation off his face, but Tina had little doubt that he was running out of patience. She sympathised; few people came out of what was effectively an interrogation from Malone in a good mood, and spending the better part of an hour dealing with her own carefully crafted questions couldn't have helped. Across the corridor, Spencer and Adam were going through much the same process but with considerably less restraint on Adam's part.

"At least we're finished for now," Tina said. "I'll let you know if we find anything out, obviously. Would you like me to get someone to run you back home?"

Alec hesitated. "Actually, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"Sure. Within limits, of course."

"Mr Malone told us to find private tutors to get us through exams — that's a precis of quite a lot of discussion, you understand — and a few problems have occurred to me that we're going to need some help with. The main one is that, well, is who we are supposed to be confidential? If we are, then we need to come up with some cover story for why we need so much tutoring, or people with a high enough security clearance that it doesn't matter anyway. Come to think of it, wouldn't they need to be vetted anyway if we're going to be tutored at home, we can't just let anyone in in case they mean harm to Chris and Sam, breaching security and all that, and — what?"

Tina managed not to laugh outright as Alec picked up speed through his convoluted verbal camouflage, but she couldn't help smiling. "You want me to tutor you?"

"I was thinking maths," Alec replied instantly, "and perhaps you could introduce us to computers while you were at it? If it's not too much trouble, of course. It would solve an awful lot of problems if we could draw our assistance from within CI5, to say nothing of avoiding all that paperwork."

"And it wouldn't have anything to do with all those other things we might end up teaching you?" Tina asked, thinking of all the havoc a teenager with her hacking skills could wreak.

"What sorts of things?" Alec asked a little too innocently.

"Oh no, I'm not giving you ideas. You've learnt quite enough bad habits from Chris and Sam."

"All the more reason to teach us some good ones."

Tina laughed outright this time. "OK," she told Alec, then held up a hand to stop him launching into effusive thanks prematurely. "Provided that Malone agrees, and we can find the time. And before you thank me, remember that Sam will tell me if I'm not working you hard enough."

"That's all right," Alec said with a smirk, "I can always blame Adam."

Tina shook her head. "Shoo," she said, gathering up her notes. "Go find Sam and bother him."

Alec hesitated, sobering rapidly. "Actually there was something else I wanted to ask. About... about Sam."

"If it's about his work, I won't be able to tell you anything," Tina reminded Alec. She listened and watched carefully all the same; odds were this had nothing to do with CI5 and everything to do with a young man who wasn't as self-assured as he liked to pretend.

"No, no, it's nothing like that, it's..." Alec paused to marshal himself. "Sam never talks about his family. Any time I bring them up, he changes the subject. I was just wondering..."

"It's not just you," Tina told him gently. "Sam never talks about his family to anyone, not even Chris as far as I know. All I know about his father is that he's a fan of old movies, and Sam got him an autographed picture of a Swedish film star who's now a politician we saved. And I only know that because I was there when he got it signed."

"Yes, but I'm his... Why won't he tell me? Why hasn't he introduced me to his parents?"

What have I done, Tina reckoned he meant. Alec was trying to sound reasonable and rational about it, but there was a brittleness to him as he asked. He wanted so badly to be Sam's son, to be rooted somehow with a family and all that went with it, that being shut off from the rest of Sam's family hurt more than he would admit.

"I don't know," she said softly, "but I can tell you this: it's not because he isn't proud of you. He's forever telling us about the things you've done and the progress that you've made. Far more than just making a report, before you say anything, and the way he says it anyone can tell how important you are to him."

Alec straightened. "Well, I knew that," he said, not fooling Tina for a minute. He did seem happier than when he'd first asked his question, but Tina thought she'd have a quiet word with Sam all the same. If she could figure out a way of bringing up the subject without causing Sam to clam up completely.

"So who else were you planning on asking to tutor you," she asked, opting to distract Alec as they left the interview room.

From across the corridor, Spencer's voice rose in shock. "You want me to do what?"


	6. Chapter 6

Sam looked up as the sound of scribbling stopped rather abruptly. He was ensconced comfortably in his armchair, reading intelligence reports on the latest movements in the arms trade by way of reassuring Alec that he wasn't alone in having homework. Alec was working his way through Backup's apparently fiendish maths problems, at least as far as Sam could tell from the discontented muttering. Sam reckoned he had the better of that deal, but then maths had never been one of his strong subjects.

Alec was frowning at his papers. As Sam watched, he grabbed a fresh sheet and started writing furiously. He had that look of complete concentration on his face that Sam occasionally saw on some of CI5's technical staff.

Intrigued, Sam put the report aside and stood up. Alec spared him a glance as he wandered over to the table, but otherwise ignored him. Sam was obscurely pleased that Alec wasn't entirely blocking out the world beyond his maths problem like some people did, even if that did bear out Chris's assertion that the boys were too used to watching their own backs for comfort.

Alec seemed to be putting a string of symbols apparently at random into a grid. Sam, peering over his shoulder, couldn't make head or tail of it, which annoyed him a little; while he hadn't been expecting to remember much about 'O'-level Maths, he should have at least recognised the stuff.

"Ha!" Alec cried happily. "It works!" He tossed down his pen and sat back, satisfaction written across his face.

"Uh-huh," Sam said, smiling indulgently. "And what exactly is it?"

"I have no idea, but it's shorter and more elegant than the way Tina showed me. All I have to do is to apply this transform at the start, and—"

"And it gets the right answer?"

"Of course." Alec looked up at Sam in mock indignation. "Would I be crowing so much if it didn't?" He paused, struck by a sudden thought. "I wonder if it's something I learned before?"

"If it is, that's two surprises you'll have for Backup. Well done." Sam clapped his foster son on the shoulder, earning himself a genuinely happy smile in return. He was glad that Chris had long ago broken him of his British reserve; Alec positively thrived on such little physical contacts, and Sam would never have dreamed of reassuring him like that that if he hadn't been coping with a touchy-feely American as a partner for years.

"How's yours going?" Alec asked, starting to pack his homework away.

Sam made a face. "Not exactly thrilling," he said. "It's not telling me anything I didn't already know, and it's as dry as they come."

"That sounds like as good a reason as any to stop and watch a DVD."

"You're a bad influence on me."

"No, seriously," Alec said, looking anything but, "you need to revive your critical faculties by indulging in something light and refreshing before diving back into such turgid prose. Think of it as the literary equivalent of a sorbet."

"We are not watching _Star Wars_ again," Sam said firmly. For some reason Alec loved those films, and as far as Sam was concerned he was welcome to watch them while Sam was at work, but there was a limit to the number of light-sabre fights Sam was willing to sit through.

Alec rummaged through the satchel that was supposed to hold the textbooks and work he took to CI5 HQ, but also contained everything else he could charm out of anyone at work. " _Sleepless In Seattle_?" he suggested.

That had to have come from the typing pool, Sam thought. No one up in Ops would dream of palming a drippy Tom Hanks romance off on him. "Shoot me now."

"I would," Alec muttered, "but you won't show me how to use a gun."

Sam ignored him, riffling through his own selection of DVDs. "How about _The African Queen_?" he counter-offered.

"Seen it," Alec said, pausing. "Why didn't it have any colour? I thought Adam had broken something, but everything else played properly."

"That's how it was made," Sam told him. "Back when they filmed it, they hadn't worked out how to do colour. All the films and TV were in black and white back then. That was long before you were born, of course."

Alec frowned for a moment as he processed this, then shrugged. "Huh," he said dismissively, and buried his nose back in his school bag. "Aha! _A Knight's Tale_."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Well worth watching," he said. Though it would probably be a vastly different experience here at home rather than in a crowded cinema in Newcastle with Chris trying to sing along beside him. "You put the disc in, I'll get us some drinks."

Two hours later, watching the film with Alec turned out to have had more similarities to watching it with Chris than Sam had first assumed. Granted there was no singing along, and his quiet home in no way compared to a cinema full of drunken Geordies, but when he let his guard down Alec was as free with his laughter and smart comments as Chris was.

Alec was still grinning as he returned the DVD to its box. "Thank God that was fiction," he said, "I'd hate to think that our forebears really did such stupid things."

"Geoffrey Chaucer was a real person," Sam told him, "a very famous poet. Though as far as I know he never helped anyone pretend to be a knight."

"Really?" Alec sounded positively sceptical.

"Really. I think I've got a copy of his _Canterbury Tales_ somewhere."

"I still don't understand why anyone would want to be a knight, though. All that charging around with lances looks positively dangerous."

"Ah, it's the status. It's a bit like modern sportsmen — they do what they do for the fame and the money, and the more dangerous the sport is the more of a kick they get out of doing it."

"There has to be a better way of getting the girl," Alec observed. "Running off with her in the middle of the night would have made more sense."

"Would she have gone with him if she thought he was a commoner?" Sam asked. Alec looked at him sharply, evidently catching something in Sam's voice. "I mean, status is a big thing to some people. They couldn't possibly meet people who had the wrong parents, never mind run away with them."

Alec seemed to think this over for a moment. "That sounded heartfelt," he said slowly.

It was, more so than Sam had expected. For one incident at university over ten years ago to be still pushing his buttons like this... Sam really had to get over himself. "Never mind," he said ruefully. "I'll tidy up here, you get yourself to bed."

Alec nodded slowly. Unexpectedly he gave Sam a quick hug, a show of affection that Sam found himself surprisingly grateful for. "Goodnight, Dad," he said.

Watching the disappearing back of one of the best things to happen to his life, Sam Curtis made a resolution. There had been enough recounting of his past sins; it was time to count his blessings instead.

******

"Ha! Eat my dust!" Chris Keel crowed as his newly acquired sports car flashed through the streets of L.A.

"Not so fast, gringo," Adam growled in an awful Mexican accent. "You may have the better car, but I have the moves." He leaned hard on his PS2 controller, as if he could drag his car across the screen by main force.

"'Gringo'? Have you been watching westerns or something?"

"Yup. _Magnificent Seven_. Ace film, even Alec liked watching it. You, on the other hand, should be watching the road." Chris blinked as Adam's pixelated Porsche shot past his car unexpectedly. "Where are we now, Mr. Eat My Dust?" Adam gloated.

"Oh, so we're playing like that, are we?"

There was relative quiet for a while as both Keels continued to commit virtual automotive mayhem, punctuated by the occasional grunt or gloating laugh. Adam was the first one to speak again.

"You really ought to teach me how to drive some time," he said, cutting viciously out of lane.

"Pulling a stunt like that is really going to convince me to let you do it for real," Chris fired back, using the pavement in an entirely CI5-disapproved manner.

"No, seriously, if I could drive you wouldn't have to keep ferrying me about the place."

"Uh-huh," Chris grunted sceptically. He could do the math on this one: teenager plus car equals independent trouble. "Who are you trying to get a date with?"

"Huh?" Adam sounded genuinely puzzled. "Who do I know who I'd want to get a date with? I just meant for going round to Alec, us getting to and from CI5 without interrupting you and Sam, honest that's all. I guess it would be good for impressing the girls, though," he added thoughtfully. "Maybe you should teach Alec too."

"Oh no," Chris said, imagining the mayhem that would cause. "I am not having both of you in the car making smart remarks about each other's driving. No way, no how."

"You're right," Adam sighed. "Alec would prefer to learn from Sam anyway."

He left the remark dangling significantly, but Chris knew better than to rise to the bait. Whether or not he was a better driver than Sam (though he was) didn't matter as much as his sanity, and teaching both of the boys how to drive was not going to improve that any.

"Maybe Sam would teach me, too," Adam tried.

Chris laughed openly at that. "No chance. Sam's not stupid. He knows what the pair of you get like just as well as I do."

Adam grunted. "I suppose this is a bad time to talk to you about my pocket money too, then?"

"Most people try to get their old man in a good mood by letting him win something before they talk about money," Chris observed. "Besides, no way am I giving you an allowance to cover driving lessons."

"Like you weren't going to notice me letting you win." Adam went silent for a moment as he seemed to practically will his car across the finish line narrowly ahead of Chris's. "Oh yes," he crowed, punching the air with his fist, "how do you like that?"

"I am so out of practice," Chris mock-lamented. He was, in fact. He had never had time to play much, just the odd evening when he'd been in London and hadn't had any good reason to go out with Sam or Backup, or when he'd been stuck at home recuperating. With Adam around, he didn't have even that much time any more, which he had to admit was on the whole not a bad thing.

"It's not like I've got much else to do all day," Adam pointed out.

"I could ask Harvey to set you more work."

Adam scowled at him. "I was thinking of something more realistic," he said.

"Yeah, I suppose you doing homework is pretty unlikely."

"I mean, the traffic's nothing like as bad in the middle of the day as it is first thing, isn't it?"

You had to give Adam points for persistence. Chris had decided that long ago, not that he would ever be stupid enough to tell his son. "You insult my virtual driving skills and you still expect lessons?" he said.

"Oh come on, you were much younger than me when you started driving, you told me so."

Chris made a mental note to be more careful what stories about his youth he told to Adam. Sam would probably tell him it was his own fault for talking so much, once he finished laughing. He glared at Adam, anticipating the mockery to come from his partner.

Adam went for his most hangdog expression. "Please?"

Chris wasn't a pushover for Adam's little manipulations, really he wasn't. But he had to admit that Adam was mature enough to be trusted behind the wheel of a car at least as much as Chris had been at the same age. Granted that wasn't saying much, but all the same Chris had never crashed a car or a plane without some pretty extreme provocation. He'd almost always walked away even in those cases, except for that one time Sam had to carry him through the veldt. Time, he thought, to use the same carrot and stick approach that his father had used on him.

"Tell you what, you convince me that you're going to get good grades and I'll teach you to drive. No," Chris said quickly before Adam could thank him effusively and forget the point, "I mean it about the grades. If anybody thinks your work is slipping below standard, you can forget about driving. And don't imagine for a minute that you're getting to take the car out on your own before you've passed your exams."

Adam looked a bit put out that Chris was serious about the conditions, but that couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face. "Thanks, Dad, you're the best."

Chris grinned back and pulled his son into a one-armed hug. "I know it. Now don't you have an English paper to write?"

"I take it back, you're a slave driver."

"Well next time maybe you'll let your old man beat you at _Grand Theft Auto_ like a dutiful son should."

It was good to hear laughter so much around his apartment, Chris later thought. Somehow it made the place home, not just somewhere he slept more often than anywhere else. Somewhere the Keels belonged. It had been a very long time since he'd felt like he belonged anywhere.

It felt good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here beginneth part two of the story. Our Heroes are settled in, so now what?

"Haec coffea est peracerba gustatu,"[1] Alec Curtis said with distaste. The late summer sunshine beat down on the little ironwork cafe table he and Adam Keel were seated at, but not so hot that he regretted his choice of jacket this afternoon. A shame the same couldn't be said for his choice of beverage.

Adam slid his sunglasses down his nose to give Alec an amused look. He had to have been practicing that move, Alec thought. "Te dixi ut aliquid frigidum eligeres. Sed non, necesse est ut coffeam bibas."[2]

"Necesse est," Alec agreed. "Haec perfrigent."[3]

"Ubique perfrigent," Adam said tolerantly, grinning a little. "Tu solus, um, apte coffeam friges."[4]

It was Alec's turn to look over his sunglasses. "Tense," he said.

"Bugger. Frigis. Why are we speaking in Latin anyway?"

"Because you need the practise, obviously. And your French will take months before anyone sensible would let you near an exam."

"It's been months already," Adam said gloomily.

"Which is why the sooner we have a language under our belts the better. Once we have the basics down, our parents have fewer excuses not to teach us something more interesting."

Adam looked keenly at Alec, in a way that Alec found simultaneously highly disturbing and deeply reassuring. "Sam refused to let you near the guns again, didn't he?"

Alec grimaced, but nodded. It rankled that his father didn't trust him enough to show him basic firearm safety. He vaguely understood that Sam was trying to protect him, as if not knowing anything about guns meant that he'd never need one, but it still felt stupid.

Adam rested his hand gently on Alec's. "It's OK. Dad is just the same. He tries to keep work as far away from the flat as he can."

"I know, I know," Alec said. Reassuring as it was that Adam was in the same boat, it still irritated the hell out of him. "It's like he thinks I'm made of glass or something."

"Uh-huh. Mind you, we did take a fair bit of looking after to start with, maybe they're still thinking like that. Anyway, quit brooding, it doesn't suit you."

Alec just barely managed not to grimace at his friend, or indeed at the Americanisms that were beginning to pollute Adam's English, though from the grin he got back Adam knew full well that he'd been working up to a full-blown sulk. Instead he pulled himself up haughtily. "Doesn't suit me? Everything suits me, you overgrown clothes-horse."

Adam laughed outright, and Alec couldn't help but smirk. "That really is the pot calling the cauldron black."

"It took me long enough to teach you how to dress yourself, I think I'm entitled to it."

At least Adam had the grace to look a little sheepish. "I reckon you are at that," he admitted.

It had been time well spent, Alec thought to himself. When he stopped to pick out the right clothes, people took Adam more seriously. More importantly, Adam took himself more seriously. He stood taller, relaxed and generally seemed more self-confident than he had before, and Alec had to admit he rather liked the result. It helped that a confident Adam looked good in the simplest of clothes, which in turn had taught Alec a lot about being comfortable without armouring himself in fashion. It was a good thing in some ways, but there were some distinctly unsettling implications as well.

"Do you think we used to be friends, Before?" he asked. He didn't need to say before what; the word had somehow acquired a capital letter between the two of them.

"What brought this on?" Adam asked, all serious now. He was avoiding the question, Alec noted, which probably meant he felt the same way.

"We were so different from each other when we first woke up. We still are in a lot of ways. And... and something that Sam said months ago, about some people not even deigning to notice others if they're the wrong sort. It made me feel... I just keep thinking, would we have even liked each other Before?"

Adam thought for a moment, then took off his shades and leaned forwards. "The way I see it," he said, "it doesn't really matter. Maybe we got on OK, or maybe you were too much of a stuck-up prat and I was too much of whatever it was you called me yesterday."

"Plebian troll," Alec supplied, nettled.

Adam waved the insult away. "Whatever. Either way, what happened, happened. If we didn't like each other, then maybe the accident was a good thing. We get on pretty well now; we may be different, but so are Chris and Sam and they're the best partnership in CI5." He grinned. "Which gives us something to aim for, I reckon."

Alec couldn't help grinning back. Quite how becoming a CI5 agent had turned into one of his life's goals he wasn't entirely sure, but the idea of Adam and him standing in their parents' shoes was a comforting one. "You'd have me as a partner?"

"Who else would take me?"

"Anyone with any sense, you prat." Alec shook his head. "When did you become so good at cheering up would-be bastions of truth and justice?" he asked, quoting Sam's self-mocking description of CI5.

"It's a gift," Adam told him. "Seriously, mate, we already are a team." He stopped for a moment, evidently thinking hard. "Quicum colloquaris in lingua mortua?"[5]

Alec had to think about the mess of implied clauses Adam left him, but he eventually he grinned back. "Who else, indeed?"

*******

The car ahead hurtled round the corner into another alleyway, and Sam Curtis didn't even think as he tapped the brakes and slammed his own car sideways in pursuit. Beside him, Chris Keel took the opportunity to pop off a couple of speculative shots at the drug-runners' tyres, to no great effect.

"Please tell me you're actually going to use some of your vacation time this year," Chris said, eyes never leaving their target.

Sam spared a momentary glance at his partner. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you keep saying how well Alec's doing, I thought you might want give him more of a reward than another shiny new exam paper."

Well versed in Chris's idea of subtlety, Sam easily spotted the excessive nonchalance in his partner's voice. He considered the matter with the part of his brain that wasn't occupied in figuring out where to herd the car ahead.

"Your mother called?" he tried.

"Uh, yeah."

"Let me guess, she was delighted to discover she has an adopted grandson, and she wants to see him as soon as possible?"

"I think she and Pop have some crazy idea of marrying him off before he can get started on a life of trouble."

"Ouch."

"Plus they're taking it as a sign that I'm ready to settle down rather than an edict from Malone, so they're going to be throwing girls at me the whole time."

"That'll be such a hardship for you," Sam said unsympathetically. He was a surprised when Chris actually stopped and looked hurt at him for a moment. With that smile of his, Chris was well known in CI5 for his ability to pull birds more or less at will.

"Yeah, well," Chris said unhelpfully, before letting off a few more entirely unnecessary shots at the fleeing villains.

"So let me see," Sam said, trying to work out exactly what he had said wrong, "you want Alec and me to go with you and Adam to Washington to run interference against your parents?"

"Look, it was a stupid idea, forget it."

"No, you're right, it'll be good for both of them. We can introduce them to your parents, and Alec and I can throw ourselves heroically in the way of anyone trying to drag you and Adam out of bachelorhood."

Chris looked at Sam narrowly, then broke into a grin. Whatever hideous crime Sam had committed was evidently forgiven. "Alec can run interference?" Chris asked.

Sam considered what he'd been like at age twenty, added in the sheer charm Alec could put on when he wanted to, and winced. "Maybe not Alec," he agreed, "at least not until I've had a chance to talk to him about 'conduct unbecoming'."

"Thanks," Chris said with a laugh. "Your sacrifice is greatly appreciated. Though somehow I doubt the kids will see it that way." He leant inwards as Sam threw the car around another narrow turn.

"The way I see it, this is all for their benefit anyway. It's time they got out and saw more of the world than just London. Once you've done your filial duty we ought to tour round the States for a bit. You never know, something different might even trigger their memories."

"I don't think you're going to convince Malone that this is actually work," Chris said wryly.

Sam shrugged. "No, but we might talk him into hurrying up their passports. Unless you want to spend the next three months wrangling with civil servants?"

"A change of scenery will do them good," Chris agreed rapidly. "Assuming my mother ever lets go of them." He let off a single shot as their target obligingly swerved left across them, neatly taking out a rear tyre.

"Nice shot," Sam said as the other driver lost control, ploughing up against the alley wall and coming to rest against a skip. Sam brought his own car to a more controlled halt, then they were both out and running.

The time for banter was over.

*****

Operations Control was a-buzz with activity. Not that a member of public would have known the difference, but there was an alertness to the way people typed at their keyboards, frowned at their screens and spoke softly into their headsets that was comfortingly familiar to Spencer. Other CI5 agents might get their adrenaline rush from getting shot at out in the field, and Spencer had no objections to getting his hands dirty once in a while, but his greatest joy was always in coordinating a major operation. There was something about holding all the threads together as much in his head as on his beloved computer, and making sure each job got the attention it needed from the best possible people, that fitted his nature perfectly.

"Got it," he said into his radio as an indicator turned green. "You go back to mingling, I'll feed the results back to you once Richards has had his wicked way with them."

He flipped a switch and spoke again. This time his quiet words reached across the room rather than across the world, but were no less important for that. "The data's on channel 13," he told Richards. "Backup says they're using Zhenetsky encrypters, if that makes a difference."

"Hmm. Unmodified?"

"That's what she said."

"There's a flaw in their key generation," Richards mused. "I should be able to do better than brute force..." He trailed off, typing quickly. "OK, Cruncher is off and running. I'll have a live decrypt for you within the hour, sooner if we get lucky."

"Thanks," Spencer said, meaning it. He was really glad that he didn't have to deal with the devious maths that cryptography demanded, which Richards seemed to love. "I'll tell everyone to hurry up and wait."

He heard Richards snort and saw the big hacker lean back and stretch. Spencer gave one last check of his satellite links and did likewise.

"How's it going with the point fives?" Richards asked.

Spencer groaned. Alec and Adam, or 'three seven point five' and 'four five point five' as the Ops personnel had begun to call them, caused him more headaches than any agents short of three-seven and four-five themselves.

Richards laughed. "It's nice to see someone make you work for once, you lazy bugger."

"Your time will come," Spencer told him. "When they decide they want to learn how to program, nothing will save you."

"Unless they ask Backup first, which they will. Anyway, that wasn't what I meant." Richards peered at his screen intently for a moment and hit a few keys. "Is there any news on their identities?"

Spencer sighed. "More of the same," he said. "I've been in touch with every public school and most of the state schools in the country by now. None of them recognised the boys, or even their school crests. I don't suppose any of your Missing Persons flags tripped?" A stupid question, he knew. If Richards had had a nibble on any of the requests he had outstanding with police forces around the country, the entire office would have known pretty damn quickly.

"No. I've also been trying to track whole families disappearing or moving unexpectedly, just in case they didn't get reported because no one noticed. It's a complete nightmare, though; the information mostly just isn't there."

"So somebody somewhere is covering things up." It was a conclusion they'd all come to some while ago, not that it helped any. For all their vaunted investigative abilities, CI5 had got exactly nowhere with both the boys' identities and the destruction of the warehouse in which they'd been found.

"If they are," Richards said, "they're damn good at it. None of the checks you asked for on the schools came back with anything fishy, no unusual amounts of money are floating around, and there's absolutely nothing to tie them to that bloody warehouse."

"I'm almost down to asking the Met to go door-to-door in a half-mile radius of the place to see if anyone recognises them, but Malone's holding off on that for now. He doesn't want to risk asking about them too publicly when we don't know who we're protecting them from."

Richards grunted absently, typing quickly. "My long shot's not coming up either," he said after a moment. "I've got some facial recognition software slowly working through every picture I can find out on the net. Nothing but false positives so far."

"That's going to take months to finish, if it ever does," Spencer said mildly. Richards just gave him an amused look; they'd taken months already, so they might as well give it a go.

An alert beeped and Richards looked back at his screen. "Gotcha," he said, and suddenly he and Spencer were all business again. "The idiots are prefixing everything with a nice predictable sequence... got it. I'm piping the decrypted audio to channel three now. Good luck, it's in Russian by the sound of it."

Spencer rubbed his hands. "No problem, comrade."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> [1] _"This coffee is too harsh"_
> 
> [2] _"I told you to pick something cold. But no, you must drink coffee_
> 
> [3] _"I must. They over-roasted this"_
> 
> [4] _"Everywhere over-roasts. Only you can make coffee properly"_
> 
> [5] _"Who else would you talk with in a dead language?"_


	8. Chapter 8

Adam nervously straightened his tie one more time, looked back at his dad for moral support, and pressed the door-bell. He saw Alec flash him a smile before settling easily into a respectful pose, while Sam seemed nearly as nervous as Adam felt.

Chris rolled his eyes at the lot of them. "It's only my family," he said.

'Only' my foot, Adam thought. The Keel ancestral pile, as both Curtises had insisted on referring to it, was a low, rambling, bloody huge house. Set in a ridiculously large amount of beautifully tended land that positively glowed in the autumnal sunshine, the ranch-style building could have had a good go at housing CI5's entire London Ops Centre. Apparently it only held his adopted grandparents. To say that Adam felt inadequate as he stood in front of it was understating matters dramatically.

A few moments later the door was opened by a smartly dressed lady leaning heavily on a cane. Adam quickly pasted his best smile on, and noticed that, for all his easy words, Chris had still drawn himself up straight as the door opened.

"Hi, Mom," Chris said with smile.

"Chris," she said warmly. "And this young giant must be Adam."

Adam ducked his head. "Uh, yes, I'm your adopted grandson," he managed to get out. Given that he had spent the entire drive over working out what his first words to his grandparents ought to be this possibly wasn't as great an achievement as it might have been, but at least he had said something and it wasn't terminally embarrassing.

"Let's have a look at you then," she said, setting aside her cane and grasping Adam firmly by the shoulders. She had Chris's eyes, Adam thought as she looked him over. No, that should be Chris had her eyes; there was the same irreverent twinkle there promising bad things to people who took themselves too seriously, but also the same fierce protectiveness that made Chris such a reassuring father.

"So does he pass muster then?" Chris asked. If Adam hadn't spent months learning Chris's moods then he might not have noticed the tiny note of concern in his voice. From the look on her face, his adopted grandmother had noticed it too.

"He passed your muster," she told Chris with a smile. "Of course we're going to love him. Here, give your grandmother a hug."

"Mom!" Chris groaned as Adam obliged, even though he was fairly sure that his ears were turning pink. He didn't mind getting close to people, provided they were people he trusted, but hugs were still embarrassing things that older relatives inflicted on you as far as he was concerned.

"Don't worry, there are still plenty of hugs here for you."

"So not what I meant, Mom."

His grandmother released him to give his father a mock-reproving glare, but Adam noticed she was still leaning heavily on him. "Well," she said, "aren't you going to introduce your friends?"

Chris looked a little sheepish. "Sorry," he said. "This is my partner, Sam Curtis, and his son Alec."

Sam smiled in greeting, but Alec went so far as to bow. "Delighted to meet you, ma'am," he said, exuding charm like it was going out of fashion. Creep, Adam thought fondly.

His grandmother smiled broadly. "Delighted to meet someone who knows what manners are," she told Alec, shooting a glare at Chris that made him squirm. "And you as well," she said to Sam. "It's nice to finally meet you. Chris has told us so much about you, or I'm sure he would have done if he ever picked up the phone."

Sam looked a little off-balance at this. "Well," he said, "our job does keep us busy. I'm sure Chris would call more often if he could, Mrs Keel."

"Call me Sarah," she said, waving away Sam's excuse. She glanced over at Adam. "Or Grandma, of course. The important thing is that you're all here now. You must tell us how you and Chris are getting on with work," she said, leaning conspiratorially towards Sam. "Somehow, Chris never gets round to telling us the embarrassing stories."

"Mom!"

Laughing, Sarah Keel ushered them all inside. "Come on, someone wants to meet his grandson, and you know how he hates to be kept waiting." She retrieved her cane, but kept a firm hand on Adam's shoulder as they made their way through the house. Adam didn't mind; it kept him grounded while he was still in shock at the sheer size of the place and the neatness with which it was kept. All the same she gave him a rather apologetic look, mixed with an impish smile that Chris had inherited from her. "I'm not as young as I used to be," she told him.

"You aren't old," Adam tried gamely, and was rewarded with another laugh.

"Nice try, young man, but I haven't tripped the Light Fantastic for years." She paused, then rather sharply said, "Don't you dare, Chris."

Adam looked round to see what his father was up to. Instead of the amused fake innocent look that usually accompanied being caught out by Sam, Chris was looking sad and guilty. "But I..."

"It wasn't your fault," she said firmly. "You had other priorities, and you'd still be catching hell from me if you'd been ignoring them."

"I still should have—"

"No, you shouldn't." That sounded to Adam like a mother who had had quite enough of the argument and wanted it closed. How he knew what that tone of voice meant he had no idea, but it was obscurely comforting. "Mr Curtis, what would you say the job of a bridegroom was on his wedding day?"

Sam looked rather taken aback by the change in direction of the conversation. "Not messing up the vows, I imagine, and doing whatever his best man tells him to do."

"Exactly what I said," Sarah Keel told him with a pointed look at her son. Bemused, Adam saw Alec quirk an eyebrow at him, and gave a slight shrug in return. The subject of weddings and marriage had never come up before in his father's stories, and he had no idea what this was all about other than it was important. He looked back to see that his grandmother had caught their silent conversation, as well as the similar looks being exchanged by their parents. She sighed, shook her head at an unhappy-looking Chris, and moved on. "Dominic's through here," she said, motioning them through a doorway.

Captain Dominic Keel (retired) was a slightly short, white-haired gentleman built not unlike his son. No one could mistake him for anything other than a military man, and even when he was welcoming them into the lounge, Adam found himself checking and rechecking that he had everything in order.

"Good to see you, son," the oldest Keel said. "You don't get back home nearly often enough." He spoke warmly enough, but the edge of unquestionable authority was clear.

"Sorry, sir," Chris said. "You know how it is with missions." He too was standing straight, very much unlike the relaxed man Adam knew and loved.

Dominic gave him a long, skeptical look, then let it go. "I understand you have some news for us?"

"Yes, sir." Chris unbent enough to lay a hand on Adam's shoulder, propelling him forwards a little. "Dad, meet your grandson, Adam."

Adam tried to smile, but he reckoned it came out rather strained. He hadn't been this nervous since he left hospital. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he said, picking up on his father's formal phrasing.

His grandfather looked him up and down critically, examining him for such a long time that Adam was sure he must have got something wrong. He mostly managed to keep from fidgeting, but he felt horribly out of place. Alec was the one who could keep cool under this kind of pressure, but Alec wasn't the one undergoing a full naval inspection. For a brief moment Adam wished that the two of them could swap places.

Eventually his grandfather nodded. "Pleased to meet you too," he said. "I see Chris has been passing on his bad habits already."

"Sir?"

"There are guests in the house, and neither of you have introduced them yet."

"Dominic!" The warning note in his grandmother's voice was unmistakable, but Adam didn't fail to notice the answering twinkle in his grandfather's eyes either. He couldn't help but smile as he set about the social niceties of introducing Alec and Sam.

It was good to be home.

******

Sam sipped at his glass of wine, nodded, smiled and carried on pretending to be interested in the conversation going on in front of him.

He didn't like cocktail parties at the best of times, and being stuck in a party hosted by his partner's parents was definitely not the best of times. As an intelligence agent he'd been in more than a few social settings where he'd had to be the suave, debonair man about town, and every single one of them had always struck him as false. He had got the job done, sometimes at the risk of his own life, but he'd never found them enjoyable. The best you could hope for was to find some pretty but stupid woman to flatter; the worst, as he was being forcibly reminded, was to be pinned down by some twit who wouldn't know a matter of national security if one came up and bit him on the arse.

The whole situation made him nervous. It was stupid, but there it was; in a room full of people, the most dangerous of whom were all related to his partner somehow and all of whom were here because they didn't get to see Chris often, Sam was more on edge than he had been on some missions. He couldn't even blame it on looking out for his son, since Alec had taken to the party like a duck to water and already had everyone in the room under the age of twenty five wrapped around his little finger.

"Ah, there you are, Sam!" Sam turned to see Sarah Keel sweep up and grasp him firmly by the arm. "I'm terribly sorry to drag Mr Curtis away from you, Charles," she said to the idiot boring Sam rigid, "but there are a few people I simply must introduce him to before the evening is over."

Sam made his gracious departure almost on autopilot. "Thank you," he murmured to Mrs Keel as she towed him away, smiling and nodding to the other guests.

"Mea culpa," Mrs Keel said firmly. "I know better than to leave anyone in Charles's company for more than five minutes. Honestly, that man could bore for his state. I was rather counting on Marion keeping him on a tighter leash this evening."

"He wasn't that bad," Sam protested, though not with any great force since this Charles had, in fact, been exactly that bad. Mrs Keel's skeptical look told him that he was fooling no one.

"Tell me," she said after a moment, "how is Chris to work with?"

Sam smiled. "After all the scrapes we've pulled each other out of," he said, "I've got no complaints. We make a pretty good team." Almost absent-mindedly he began scanning the party for signs of Chris.

"I suppose he must seem rather gung-ho to you."

"Well..." Sam started to temporise, then stopped as Mrs Keel's carefully artless tone registered. That statement wasn't as innocent as it sounded. "He's not as cautious as I am," he continued, now watching her carefully, "but that's not what you were talking about, was it?"

"Every mother worries about her son," Mrs Keel said unrepentantly, "and I have more reason than most."

"It's a dangerous job," Sam agreed, "but he's always been there to back me up, and I've always been there for him." Mrs Keel gave him a wry smile at that, so Sam decided to press his point. "And of course now we have the kids to think about."

"Of course," she said approvingly. "It's reassuring to know that someone is looking after him."

Sam felt himself blushing slightly at the compliment. He just nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"I meant Adam," Mrs Keel told him, an all too familiar grin on her face.

Sam groaned. "At least now I know where Chris gets his sense of humour from."

"Oh trust me, Dominic can be much worse."

"Still," Sam insisted, "having the boys to take care of hasn't changed how we work much. We don't travel around as much as we used to, and maybe Chris is eating better than he normally does, but that's about it." He scanned the room again, relaxing a little when he saw Chris and Adam deep in conversation with an older couple. "We're still the same partnership we always have been," he finished.

He turned back to see Sarah Keel looking at him in a disturbingly calculating manner. "That's very reassuring to hear," she said. "It says a great deal about how seriously you take it that you've shared your vacation time with him."

Sam wasn't entirely sure what she was driving at, but instinct told him to be cautious. There was something parental underlying her words, something about Chris, and that made him more than usually eager to divert attention and fade into the background. "We didn't want to split the boys up," he explained. "This is their first trip outside London, never mind outside the UK, and what with Adam getting to meet you for the first time we thought that having them together would make the whole thing less stressful."

Mrs Keel raised an eyebrow. "I was hoping to rate something more positive than 'stressful'," she said.

Sam wasn't fooled this time, but he took her comment seriously all the same. "They're doing well for the most part, but some days everything is stressful. Some little thing will happen, and what they don't know suddenly becomes overwhelming."

"They mean a lot to you, don't they?"

"Alec is my son," Sam said simply, "and Adam is Chris's."

"And every father worries too," Mrs Keel added sympathetically.

Sam nodded. "I don't know that I could claim to be a good father, but I can't help but worry about them."

Sarah Keel gave him that look again, but accompanied it with a soft smile. "I'd have to say that you haven't done a bad job. The way the boys have turned out is a credit to you both."

"It's just the way they are," Sam told her. He believed it too; if Alec wasn't a complete mess of neuroses, it was because he was a strong and good-hearted boy. All Sam had done had been to give him a bed to sleep in and a shoulder to cry on when he needed them. The best he could hope for apart from that was to avoid repeating his own father's mistakes.

"Somehow I doubt that," Mrs Keel said, glancing past him towards Chris and Adam. "Oh dear," she said mildly. "Vanessa St Lawrence is dragging her daughter Emily over to be introduced to Adam."

"Poor Adam," Sam said, looking round more sharply than was strictly necessary at a cocktail party.

"Poor Chris," Mrs Keel corrected. "Vanessa fancies herself as something of a femme fatale since the divorce, and the woman has no shame. Perhaps you should collect up your son and mount a daring rescue."

"Christopher!" Even on his limited acquaintance, Sam recognised Dominic Keel's bellow across the party.

"Or not," Mrs Keel added drily.

Sam spotted Dominic making his way through the party, Alec trailing along in his wake. The smug look on his son's face boded no good to Sam, so he made a rapid and rather absent apology to Sarah and headed to Chris's side as quickly as he could.

"Are you insane or just incompetent?" he was in time to hear Dominic demand. "You keep a gun in the house, and you still haven't given my grandson basic firearms safety training?"

Alec at least had the grace to look slightly abashed and no little alarmed when Sam caught his eye.

*******

Alec stood at what all his months of movie watching assured him was a passable imitation of parade rest. It seemed like the right thing to do as he and Adam waited for Adam's grandfather to begin.

It had been ridiculously easy to prod Captain Keel into giving them gun lessons, Alec thought. He hadn't even been trying as such, which on reflection probably helped a great deal. He had just made a wistful remark while being shown Chris's old marksmanship trophies, and the whole thing had snowballed from there. It couldn't have worked better if he had planned it.

He'd caught hell from Sam about it, of course. He'd known his father wouldn't approve, but this was one of those occasions when he'd had quite enough of being wrapped up in cotton wool. Sam was only trying to protect him, he understood that, but none of their 'discussions' on the subject had ever convinced Alec that he was better off not knowing how to use a gun. He'd been ready for the resulting anger.

What he hadn't been ready for was the disappointment. He'd expected Sam to be disappointed that he'd gone behind his back, that was a given. Alec hadn't actually gone behind Sam's back, but he would have if he'd thought it would work, so it was only fair that he took that as it came. It was almost familiar in an obscure way, which was something Alec very carefully wasn't thinking about. No, the thing that he hadn't been expecting was how much Sam seemed to be disappointed in himself.

It hadn't been until he'd wandered into the library much later that evening, still quietly smug about finally getting to learn about firearms, that he'd even noticed that something was up. His father had been sitting silently in a corner, a book open on his lap, staring off into space with a lost expression. He didn't seem to notice Alec standing there in the doorway, something that spoke volumes about how upset he was. That was his fault, Alec realised; Sam always fretted about parenting no matter how much he was told that he was doing just fine, and Alec had just run roughshod over him.

Having no idea how to make it up to Sam, Alec had slipped softly back into the corridor. He'd gone and found Adam and, once he'd managed to make his friend understand what exactly was up, the two of them had spent ages planning their collective apology.

"Before I start," Dominic Keel said, wrenching Alec's attention back to the present, "here are the rules. You don't step over this line," he indicated the baseline of the firing range, "ever, for any reason. If I tell you to 'hold,' stop whatever you were doing and point your gun at the floor. Finally, when I tell you 'guns down', you safety your gun and put it on the table in front of you. Got that?"

The boys nodded.

"Have you got that?" Captain Keel asked more distinctly, sounding a lot more irritated.

"Yes, sir," Alec said quickly, reacting before it really dawned on him what was being expected of them. He was relieved to hear Adam echo him; adoptive grandfather or no, Captain Keel didn't seem to be the sort to stand for any hint of messing about, and Alec didn't want anything to jeopardise this lesson. Military discipline seemed to be the order of the day.

"Good." Captain Keel didn't bother adding the threats Alec expected, but simply laid a case on the table. "This," he said, opening it, "is a gun. It has precisely one purpose; it kills people. It's very good at it. If you ever point a gun at a person, you'd better be prepared to see them dead. Got that?"

"Yes, sir," the boys said in unison this time.

"It doesn't matter if you mean it or not, accidents happen every day. And when accidents happen with a gun, people die." He paused, letting the idea soak in, and Alec briefly wished he didn't have quite a vivid enough imagination to have thought of Adam after an accident like that. He wasn't going to even think about waving a gun vaguely in Adam's direction after that.

"Adam, you first." Alec watched and listened carefully as Adam was walked through the basic mechanism, the safety catch, checking the chamber, and loading and unloading the magazine. Finally Adam was allowed to point the pistol down the range, holding it with both hands, and fire at the target.

Alec jumped at the noise. Close up, a gun was much louder in reality than he expected. He was reassured to see Adam looking rather shocked as well.

"Not bad," Captain Keel said, "but your arms still aren't forming a stable platform. Bend your elbow a little." The way he reached round to adjust Adam's posture seemed a little odd to Alec, but he dismissed the thought and concentrated instead on just how he would be expected to stand.

Adam fired off several more shots with gradually increasing confidence and accuracy, then he put down the gun and made way for Alec. Alec took it up with some trepidation, following the same instructions Adam had been given. It was different doing it himself, he realised. He thought he'd got the idea from watching Adam, but now the gun was actually in his hands it wasn't the same at all.

"Excellent stance," Captain Keel commented as Alec took aim. "Now sight along the barrel to the target."

Alec tried his best to do exactly that. Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated hard on lining the pistol up. Now was not the time for the dramatic flourishes he so enjoyed; now, all that mattered was the target, the gun, and his finger gently squeezing the trigger.

The gun fired, jerking in his hands like a live thing, abruptly shattering Alec's concentration. Squinting back at the target, he could see his shot had hit the outer ring, high and slightly to the right.

"A good first attempt, but try not to flinch next time," Captain Keel said dryly.

Nettled, Alec settled down to master the damn thing. It wasn't so hard on the second shot, once he knew what to expect in terms of sound and recoil. Slowly but surely his aim improved, until it was time for him to retire in Adam's favour again.

"Don't tense up," Captain Keel told Adam after his first shot went wild. "You need to keep some flexibility so that you absorb the recoil. Otherwise you end up anticipating it and pulling your aim off."

As he moved to adjust Adam's stance again, Alec finally realised what it was about Captain Keel's movements that was bothering him. The man was using his right hand for everything. It went well beyond the normal bias of being right-handed; Captain Keel barely ever brought his left arm into play, even when it was clearly more awkward for him to lean across with his right. Some sort of shoulder injury, Alec wondered?

He might as well ask, he realised as Captain Keel stepped back to let Adam shoot. It wasn't like this family didn't get combat injuries; it couldn't be all that sensitive. "Sir," he asked quietly, "if it's not impertinent, what happened to your arm?"

"Noticed that, did you?" Captain Keel didn't seem too put out by the question. "I took a bullet in the shoulder. It smashed the joint up badly, didn't leave me with much movement there. As long as I don't have to raise my left elbow, I'm fine. A lot of the guests weren't so lucky."

"Guests?" That threw Alec's train of thought off track. He'd been expecting an allusion to some sort of mission that Captain Keel wouldn't be able to elaborate on for reasons of national security. At least that was his father's normal approach. 'Guests' was an odd word to turn up in that context. It might not be important... but judging from the look on Captain Keel's face it meant something. "This wasn't something that happened when you were on duty, then?"

"No."

Alec couldn't resist pushing. There was clearly a story behind the injury, and the more reluctant Captain Keel was to tell it, the more intrigued Alec became. Impolite as it was, his curiosity won out. "So, 'accidents happen' then?" he asked.

"No," Captain Keel said shortly.

Alec was too busy putting two and two together to take the hint. It was a leap, but Sam was always telling him 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained.' "Would this have anything to do with Mrs Keel's limp?"

"What do you know about that?"

Alec looked at Captain Keel, trying to gauge how far he could bluff. Not far at all, he concluded quickly. "Enough to know that there are things my friend needs to know about his father if he's going to help him get over it. Enough to want to help too."

"So you think there's a problem, then?"

"We haven't been looking," Alec admitted. "All I know for sure is that it hurt Chris to see the two of you still, um, suffering the after-effects." For an irrelevant moment he wished that his old confused thoughts about how easily wounds could be fixed had been right. The Keels had opened their house to him and his father, and he had learned how much acceptance like that meant. He could understand how important they were to Chris, and just how much any injury to them had to hurt him.

Captain Keel still resisted, though. "If he hasn't told you himself, what makes you think I have any right to?" he said.

"Maybe you shouldn't tell him," Adam interrupted, surprising both of them. He had put the gun down and quietly stepped up to them while they had been talking, and Alec was briefly proud that not even the lure of playing with a gun could keep his friend out of this. "I'm his son, though," Adam continued. "Maybe not in blood, but in every other way that matters. He's the one who's been there for me over these last few months, taught me what was real and what was just my imagination, and pulled me together whenever I lost it. If there's any way I can repay even a little of that, I want to.

"And for the record, I trust Alec with my life," he added. "More importantly, I trust him to feel the same way about Dad."

Alec somehow managed not to blush, wondering how Adam always knew what to say to him. "Trusting idiot," he said affectionately.

"Paranoid creep," Adam returned in kind. He turned to his grandfather, a challenging look on his face. "I'm a Keel, sir. One way or another I will find out what I can do for my dad."

When it came to sheer stubbornness there was no beating Adam, as Alec had long ago discovered. He had no hesitation in standing next to his friend, emphasising their united front in the face of grandparental intransigence.

It took more staring down than Alec was really happy about, but eventually Captain Keel conceded. "Better settle yourselves down, boys," he said. "This could take a while."

Captain Keel's eyes unfocussed as Alec and Adam made themselves as comfortable as they could. It seemed to take some while for him to get his thoughts in order, so much so that Alec could feel Adam starting to twitch with impatience. A hand on his friend's shoulder and an understanding look quelled any impulse Adam might have had to say anything, and the two of them continued to wait in silence.

Finally, Captain Keel refocused on them, looking older and sadder than he had just minutes earlier. "Many years ago, my son took it into his head to get married. He was still a SEAL at the time, getting involved in dangerous situations on a regular basis, but he and Teresa were in love with each other so Sarah and I didn't try too hard to talk him out of it.

"It was a perfect wedding day. If you think Washington looks impressive now, you should see it in the spring, in full bloom. Teresa looked beautiful in her wedding dress, and I don't think Chris has ever looked better than he did in his dress uniform then. A picture-book wedding, my wife called it.

"Perhaps we should have tried harder to talk them out of it. It's as true of the SEALs as it is of Chris's current job that you make dangerous enemies. Some terrorist organisation that Chris's unit had destroyed, I never did care which one, wasn't as dead as everyone thought. They gatecrashed the wedding reception with semi-automatics.

"I took a bullet in the shoulder as I pushed Sarah to cover. She was still hit in the leg, but at least she was alive. Teresa..." Captain Keel swallowed, leaving Alec feeling guilty for forcing him to remember it all. "Teresa wasn't so lucky. She barely had time to realise what was going on before she died in Chris's arms.

"Fourteen people died that day, all of them close friends of Chris. Chris himself wasn't even scratched. I think that's what hurt him most; that all of those people were there because of him, and died because of him, and he walked out of it physically intact."

Alec found it surprisingly easy to imagine how Chris would feel, bringing that kind of pain down on his parents. It was horrifying.

"Thank you," Adam said, sounding more formal than normal. He looked much like Alec felt, disconcertedly understanding. "That explains a lot about how careful he is to keep me away from trouble. I, um, I think I know how to handle that."

"Huh? How?" Alec couldn't stop himself blurting out the question. This sounded like one of those odd things they found themselves just knowing, and every time Alec hoped it would lead to something more definite about their pasts.

"Just being there," Adam told him. "If he's... if it's like I think it is, Dad will be keeping people away because he thinks if anyone gets close, he'll get them killed. God, it must have been a hell of a shock having me dumped on him."

"You knew someone like that," Alec stated. It wasn't a question; Adam's reaction was far too ingrained for it to be just something he'd heard of.

Adam nodded. "I don't know who, though. The only thing that comes to mind... you're going to think this is stupid." Alec gave him an encouraging look. He might well think it was stupid, but he still wanted to know. "A lightening bolt."

A lightning bolt. That was definitely not stupid, Alec thought. "That means something," he admitted, "but I don't know what. Argh, this is so annoying!"

"You boys have enough problems of your own," Captain Keel said softly. "You don't need to be taking Chris's on as well."

As if that would ever happen, Alec thought as Adam gave his grandfather a look of unadorned scorn. Better not to get into that argument, though.

"It may not be as hard as all that," he said soothingly, trying to wind his sometimes hot-headed friend down. "Chris doesn't object to having my father around all the time."

"True," Adam allowed, "but they're partners. Dad knows Sam can take care of himself. He knows Sam's watching out for him just as much as he's watching out for Sam, too." He sighed. "I guess that means I need to get good enough that he knows I can take care of myself too." He turned back to the range and picked the pistol up again, steadying himself to resume target practice.

Alec studied him intently, being of much the same mind. He needed to get good enough for Sam to trust him to take care of himself. Not that he didn't want his father to take care of him, he just didn't want Sam to worry so much.

"Chris seems to think a lot of your father," Captain Keel said quietly, breaking Alec's concentration.

"They're the best team CI5 has got," Alec said proudly.

"Taking in you boys must have been quite a change for them."

Alec chuckled. "From what Dad says, Chris actually started keeping his apartment tidy. Relatively speaking."

"Hmm." That wasn't the laugh Alec had been expecting, and he turned to see his friend's grandfather looking thoughtful. "Still," Captain Keel said, "I suppose they'll have been seeing more of each other outside working hours, what with everything you boys have been doing."

Alec wondered for a moment if the genetics stuff Spencer had been asking him about worked for foster parents too, because Adam had exactly the same overly innocent attitude whenever he was fishing for information. "I really couldn't say," he replied, and decided that possibly the Keel family bluntness might for once be the right approach with the Keel family. "If you've got a specific question, sir, you might as well just ask it."

Captain Keel had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "What I want to know is whether anything... untoward has been going on between my son and your father."

Alec frowned, puzzling at the question until a possible meaning fell out. Then he got angry. "I hope, sir," he said coldly, "that you aren't implying that they would do anything illegal."

"God, no, they're both adults. What they get up to in private is their own business."

It took Alec a moment to figure out what that could possibly mean. When he did, angry didn't begin to describe his mood. "No," he snapped, fully intending to give the old man a piece of his mind.

Fortunately at this point Adam interrupted him, having finished his turn at the range. "What's all this?" he asked carefully.

"Perhaps you'd like to ask your grandfather why he thinks our parents are having sex with each other," Alec snarled. He turned to the shooting range, picked up the pistol, slammed a new clip in and snapped off three rapid shots that tore the centre of his target apart.

Nobody who knew any better was paying enough attention to tell him that really shouldn't have happened with 9mm rounds.


	9. Chapter 9

"I can't believe he said that!" Alec fumed.

Adam ignored him. He'd done his fair share of being annoyed when his grandfather had first suggested that his father and Sam were a couple. That was a week ago, however, and he'd cooled down since then. Alec, on the other hand, was working his way into a permanent grudge against Grandpa Keel. He'd largely kept it to himself while they were all staying with the Keels, but now that they'd moved on to New York (what Adam's dad insisted was a 'proper city') and had their own hotel rooms, Alec was happily letting rip.

Half listening to make sure he made encouraging noises in the right places, Adam concentrated on palming and manipulating a quarter. He'd been very careful not to let his dad know that John Harvey had been showing him tricks like that to liven up his lessons on basic physics. Hiding stuff without looking like you were doing it had sounded like a really useful skill to Adam, and he'd practised assiduously until he could palm a variety of awkwardly shaped small objects. He'd also made sure he kept up with the physics work; Adam knew he was being bribed, but frankly he didn't care.

"...and you haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?"

Adam snapped his fingers and was pleased to feel the coin fly up his sleeve. "What?" he asked.

"I knew it. Don't you care?"

Enough was enough, Adam thought. Alec seemed to be getting it all out of proportion as per usual, and frankly it was beginning to get old. "Would it really matter if they were?" he asked.

Alec stared at him for a moment as if he'd come from another planet. "I don't believe it!" he said eventually. "Not you too? You can't seriously believe that they're... you know... doing it?"

Adam leaned over and slapped his friend lightly on the head. "Now listen to what I said. What difference would it make if they were 'doing it'?"

"They'd be gay!"

"And? They'd still be our parents, the same people they've always been. I suppose that would make us adopted brothers rather than adopted best friends though, which is so wrong."

Alec glared at him, apparently ignoring the attempted distraction. "Men aren't supposed to have feelings like that about other men."

Adam blinked. "Where did that come from?" he asked quietly, suddenly taking the conversation seriously. He knew his friend well enough to tell that there was hurt underneath that flat, unequivocal statement. Alec only ever let that vicious edge into his voice when he was really upset.

"It's just wrong, OK?"

Alec was looking away from him, that was Adam's first clue. The second was that when Adam reached out to grab his friend's hands, Alec flinched. Just a little, and just as if he were ducking a blow rather than pulling away, but Adam didn't miss it.

"No," he said gently, "it's not OK. That's what someone told you, isn't it, what they made you say? Maybe even what they made you want to believe. But it isn't what you really believe, not deep down. You know as well as I do that people feel what they feel, and all the "shouldn'ts" in the world won't change a thing. If you've got feelings for someone, then that's what you feel. It doesn't matter if you don't like it or if you pretend it isn't there, it's still how you feel."

Something stirred down in the dark recesses of his memory, but for once Adam utterly ignored it. Alec was more important.

After a long while, Alec gave him a mildly embarrassed smile. "You're doing it again," he said.

"Doing what?" Adam asked, puzzled.

"Being wise and sensible while I turn into a puddle of neuroses. Why do you put up with me?"

Adam shrugged embarrassedly, smiling at his friend. "Who else would I copy my homework off?"

******

Chris sat back in his hotel room and relaxed for the first time in days. He loved his parents, really he did, but he was always relieved to get away from them intact.

His parents meant well, but they were a constant reminder to Chris of his failures, and whenever he was at the family home he felt the weight of expectation on his shoulders. There were traditions that a Keel should live up to, traditions of duty, skill, service to nation and all the rest of it. Traditions that had the weight of generations behind them, until they became a straightjacket.

It wasn't that Chris didn't want to be a good soldier, or agent these days. He wanted to make a difference to the world, sure, but he wanted to make it on his terms. He wanted to be himself, not yet another Keel playing his part in the military machine.

His father didn't see it like that. To him, Chris's insistence on doing things his way was an insult to Keels past, something that could only cause trouble. And the height of his rebellious ways, marrying while he was with an active unit, that was something he'd been told wouldn't end well. Not that he'd let that stop him and Teresa, and then... his father had never said "I told you so," because he hadn't needed to. Seeing his parents in hospital had been more than enough.

His dad had tried to impart some of that sense of 'being a Keel' to Adam, he knew that much. Chris hadn't been particularly worried; although both boys' lack of memories left them feeling lost and rootless from time to time, he and Sam had both impressed on them that it was who they were now that mattered, and who they were now were their sons. Adam wasn't going to be easy meat for his father's sense of tradition, that was for sure.

As it turned out, his dad managed to do something to mortally offend the pair of them. Chris carefully never asked what, trusting that Adam would talk to him if it was really bad, but it made dealing with his father that much more prickly. Adam hadn't confided in him, and had brushed it off after a while anyway. Alec was still mad about whatever it was, but then that kid could hold grudges for England. How Sam ever managed anything like discipline in their house, Chris would never know.

Sometimes Chris really envied Sam. His partner didn't talk about his family much, or at all if he could help it, but Chris got the impression that there was no great weight of tradition pressing down on him. There was no one true Curtis way that Sam had to conform to, nothing that Sam seemed to feel constrained to follow or rebel against, nothing that kept him from being Sam.

Whatever the reasons, Chris was grateful that Sam had made the choices that he had. There was no one Chris would rather have at his back, no one in CI5 who knew how he thought and could be where and when he was needed, and no one who Chris knew so thoroughly that he could reciprocate. He'd had partners before Sam, but none of them had ever meshed into the team they were.

No, he couldn't really be envious, not when he and Sam combined to be the best. And it was time that the best checked in, Chris thought as he reached for the phone, even if they were supposed to be on holiday still. There was no telling what kind of mess CI5 might have gotten into without them.

******

"How could you run out of money?" Alec asked in irritation. He and Adam were standing in the lobby of a really quite impressive bank, even if Alec wasn't about to admit it, because his friend couldn't seem to handle the concept of money in more than 'raiding the sweet shop' quantities.

Adam gave him a long-suffering look, as if his financial incompetence was somehow Alec's fault. "Well," he said, "if someone hadn't persuaded me that we really needed to buy the second game for Mr Richards, I might have had some cash left. And how was I supposed to know my bank card wouldn't work?"

"Because it never does? Honestly, I don't know what you do to that thing, but every bank in the world must know you by now."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Twice," he said. "It's stopped working twice, ever. How exactly is that my fault again?"

"It's your fault I'm stuck here," Alec groused. He wanted to be out and about, seeing the sights. Not that he actually liked New York, which was much too big, tall and dirty for him, but that was beside the point.

"Here's not so bad," Adam said, gesturing at the marbled and over-ornamented foyer. Alec shuddered. "Or would you rather have called Dad?"

"And listen to the pair of them carefully not saying that we ought to be able to handle something like this on our own instead of dragging them out of whatever discussion they're having with CI5 while we're on holiday? No thank you."

"Look on the bright side." Adam grinned at him, clearly enjoying this all far too much. "If they do have to go and do something, we might get to tag along. That or we'll have the hotel rooms to ourselves for a bit, so we could do anything we want. If we have the money."

"For which we have to be standing here, queueing up for God knows how long when we could be somewhere more interesting." This was probably Adam's idea of revenge, Alec thought glumly. Perhaps he shouldn't have dragged him through that modern art gallery earlier on.

"I thought you liked people-watching," Adam said, craning his head around to look at the other bank customers.

They were a pretty dismal lot, in Alec's opinion. "You seem to be mistaking me for someone who likes people," he said. "When you're not ignoring me completely, that is. And didn't anyone ever teach you it's rude to stare at people, and ever ruder to stare over their shoulder?"

Adam just stared past Alec in the direction of the main doors. "Four men just came in wearing those woolly mask things," he said very quietly.

Alec froze. This only happened in films, didn't it? People didn't go round robbing banks every day, particularly not when he was there. It just didn't happen. Every instinct he had screamed at Alec to run, to get away from the danger.

Then he saw Adam casually reach into his jacket pocket, and the world started moving again. "Don't even think about playing the hero," he hissed to his friend. He didn't know what Adam was planning, but the chances were it would end up with Adam getting hurt, and Alec really didn't want to see that happen.

A gun fired twice, and everyone around them started screaming and dropping to the floor for cover, just like they did in the movies. Alec followed suit, dragging Adam firmly down with him just in case. He twisted as he fell, trying to get a good look at the bank robbers and just about managing to look petrified while only being fairly panic-stricken.

There were four of them, just like Adam had said. They were wearing balaclavas, dark jackets and nasty grins, and generally looked like they'd be quite happy to beat anyone who stepped out of line within an inch of their lives. There was no way he and Adam could tackle them, particularly not since they were all armed. Just as long as his idiot friend understood that...

Adam grabbed him back, pulling him around again so that Alec was cradled against him. "It's OK," Adam crooned, "don't be scared."

Alec was dumbstruck for a few seconds, then he felt the hard outline of Adam's mobile phone palmed in the hand that was ostensibly cradling his head. Then he glared at his friend. "Stop looking so smug," he muttered, "we're both supposed to be petrified."

Adam did marshal his face at least a little as Alec pretended to cling on in fear. It didn't take as much pretending as he would have liked, though absently plotting out the horrible embarrassment he was going to inflict on Adam at the next opportunity helped. As he waited for the phone to be answered, it occurred to him to worry about being overheard. If the bank robbers heard him describing what was going on, they'd be in big trouble. If they just heard him jabbering in another language... but which one? Not Italian or Spanish, there was too much chance someone would understand in New York if there was any truth in the movies at all.

"Hello, Adam?" Alec felt relief sweep over him as he heard his father's voice on the phone. Then he keyed himself back up to sound panicky, prayed that none of the robbers were Canadian, and launched into rapid French.

«Dad, it's Alec. Don't talk, just listen. We're in the First Bank on Montague Street, and there's a robbery going on.»

He rattled on, giving every detail of the robbers he could see, trusting that his father would know what to do. On a moment's thought he threw in a quick outline of the lobby they were in, and just where he and Adam were. «There's nothing we can do at the moment except keep our heads down,» he said, glaring briefly at Adam. «Any suggestions?»

«Don't do anything,» Sam said. Even if he'd been inclined to argue, Alec wouldn't have crossed his father when he used that tone of voice. «We're five minutes away, we'll deal with everything. Just don't do anything to draw attention to yourselves.»

«Oh God, one of them is coming over. Incoming, idiot, we have incoming,» Alec almost squeaked at his friend, not really needing to act at all at this point.

Adam's eyes widened as he translated Alec's words, but he managed not to nod. Instead, Alec felt the practiced flick of the wrist that sent Adam's phone flying up his sleeve. He babbled some more in nonsense French to cover the action, letting himself sound more and more scared as the man approached.

"You, shut up," the man growled, waving his pistol at them.

Alec whimpered, something that sounded all the more authentic for being entirely heartfelt. "I quiet, yes," he said in a small voice, eyes wide and laying on the accent thickly.

Adam hugged Alec closer and glared balefully at the robber. Then, because the idiot just had to be a hero, he snapped back, "He's scared and he's French and he doesn't understand when you talk fast."

"Fucking great," the robber muttered. "You keep him fucking quiet, then."

The straight line was just too good to miss. Alec schooled his face into scared puzzlement and said quietly, "But you are not quiet when we are—" before Adam managed to shut him up. It served the bastard right for making him play the damsel in distress, Alec thought, watching with satisfaction as Adam's ears turned pink.

The robber snickered, thought better of it, growled and walked off to terrorise some other customers.

"When we get home, you're so going to regret that," Adam muttered, just loud enough for Alec to hear.

"Promises, promises." Alec couldn't help but grin, and not just at scoring a point off Adam. They'd pulled it off; the bank robbers had no idea their every move was being relayed to people who knew exactly what to do about them. There was nothing he and Adam couldn't pull off if they put their minds to it.

"Better leave the phone hidden until they forget about us," he told his mate.

******

Sam Curtis was ready to kill someone. He had a lot of potential targets right at that moment: the masked gunmen who had thought it was a good idea to rob the bank his son was in, said son and best friend who were physically incapable of keeping out of trouble for five consecutive minutes, and the New York police whose idea of subtlety was to drive up with sirens blaring and turn an armed robbery into a siege. Normally his partner was the one to be cursing out the police when they involved themselves in a CI5 operation, but Sam was beginning to see Chris's point of view for once.

They had wasted valuable time arguing about who was in charge. Not as much as they might have, because Sam had promptly called Malone and persuaded him to berate the officer in charge. CI5 didn't normally get involved in purely local police matters, but Malone had allowed Sam to stretch the point about having two agents already involved. Sam didn't know whether to chalk this up as a favour he would have to repay some day, or his boss genuinely not wanting to lose either of the boys without finding out who they were. He didn't care much either, as long as the cops were prevented from screwing things up any more than they already had.

He and Chris hadn't waited for the police to agree. Armed with building schematics that Richards and Backup had provided in short order, they had entered through an upper floor and worked back down to where the gunmen were holding the bank staff and customers hostage. Now they just had take out four widely spaced gunmen without getting any of the customers killed.

"Tell the boys to keep their heads down," he snapped into his radio. Spencer would relay the message now that he'd managed to hook up directly to Adam's cell phone, and if they knew what was good for them the two boys wouldn't so much as sneeze in the direction of the gunmen until it was all over.

Well, he could hope.

"Ready?" Chris's voice over the radio was more nervous than usual, and Sam couldn't blame him. He wasn't exactly Mr Calm-and-Collected himself with Alec stuck in the middle of all this.

Pausing only to tighten the kevlar jacket he'd appropriated from the police, Sam acknowledged. He and Chris had split up to come into the lobby from both sides, allowing them to cover the whole area. Thanks to the boys, they had a pretty good idea where all of the gunmen were, and they needed as wide a field of fire as they could get.

Moments later, Sam slipped silently into the lobby and took as much cover as he could at the corner of the tellers' counters. Chris had won the toss, so he was going to issue the challenge and take out the one gunman who was actually threatening a hostage if need be. Sam would drop any of the rest of them who were stupid enough to try and shoot it out.

Unnoticed by the people in front of him, Sam tapped his radio twice to signal to Chris that he was in position. Obligingly, Chris popped up from his hiding place. "CI5! Drop your weapons," he shouted, "and nobody gets hurt."

Predictably, none of the robbers dropped their guns. Good, Sam thought, taking aim at the first one to swing his pistol round towards Chris. A round through the shoulder persuaded that man of the error of his ways, and Sam shifted quickly to his next target. Chris swore, and Sam looked over just long enough to see his partner crouched back down, waiting for a clear shot at the hostage taker. Confident that Chris wasn't in trouble, or at least not any more than normal, Sam took down his next target and turned to the last one.

A sudden heavy pressure on his chest told Sam that the last gunman had spotted him. The kevlar did its job, but the sheer impact overbalanced Sam, knocking him backwards and out of cover. Was the bloody idiot using a canon, Sam wondered? He brought his own gun up to shoot as he fell, then thought better of it and started to roll out of the way of the next shot. That missed narrowly, showering Sam with marble splinters from the floor. He tumbled aside again, keeping himself as small a target as he could while he hunted for enough cover to risk returning fire.

The third shot never arrived. Coming up into a crouch, Sam's heart skipped a beat. He saw Adam struggling with the robber, keeping the gun pointed at the ceiling while his fingers dug into the man's wrist. The gun tumbled to the floor, but Adam reeled away as the robber back-handed him. The man's victory was short-lived, however; Alec, still prone, swept his legs out from under him.

Moments later Alec was on his feet, sticking the boot into the unfortunate robber viciously. "That's for ruining a perfectly good morning," Alec shouted. "That's for laughing at me. And that," accompanying a particularly savage kick, "is for shooting at my bloody father!"

"Alexander Curtis, what the hell do you think you're doing!" Sam roared.

Alec stepped back and looked uncertainly at Sam, breathing hard. "Go," Sam heard Adam mutter to Alec, "I've got him covered. That's his dad," he said conversationally to the downed man, nodding in Sam's direction. "My dad is the one who just put a neat hole in your friend's head. Do you still want to play?"

Alec all but ran over to Sam, stopping hesitantly in front of him. "I saw you fall," he said in a small voice. "I thought for a moment..."

"I know," Sam told him. His head had been full of images of the boys lying in a pool of blood. He hadn't been so scared since the first time he'd been in a firefight. "It's not all fun and games, is it?"

Then his arms were full of scared teenager. "Thought I'd lost you," Alec whispered, not quite crying.

"It's OK." Sam tried not to wince as he was hugged. "I'm just bruised that's all." Over Alec's shoulder he saw Chris standing with Adam as the police came in to take charge of the surviving robbers.

"Don't think this gets you out of trouble, young man," he said after a long moment. "You were told to keep down."

"We took care of one of them," Alec said, but without his usual argumentative heat.

"You could've been shot," Sam said fiercely. " _I_ could have shot you."

Alec stepped back a little to look Sam in the face. "You wouldn't have," he said confidently, "you're better than that."

"Nobody's perfect," Sam said urgently, still holding his son's shoulders. "If I'd risked a shot at that guy, I could easily have hit you or Adam. Promise me that you won't do that again."

Alec stared at him in sudden understanding, then looked away for a moment. "I'm your son," he said, and looked Sam in the eye defiantly. "I won't promise to leave people in danger, you've taught me better than that. I won't go looking for trouble, though."

Sam grimaced, knowing he couldn't forbid Alec without being a hypocrite. How one boy could make him so proud and so scared simultaneously... "Don't get hurt," was all he could say. "You're not replaceable."

"I won't," Alec said, smiling as Sam released him. Sam's suspicions rose as that smile turned crafty. "Now, about that firearms training..."


	10. Chapter 10

Sam pulled the car to the side of the road, put on the handbrake and switched off the engine. "We're here," he said redundantly.

Alec looked around, puzzled. They were in a rather dull and decidedly down-market housing estate, which might not exactly be falling down but had definitely seen better days. He couldn't for a minute imagine why his father had brought him here, and Sam hadn't exactly been forthcoming on the journey.

Sam hadn't exactly been forthcoming about anything since the incident at the bank, though, and Alec worried that he'd managed to scare his father so badly that Sam was having second thoughts about all this parenting business. He'd done his best to be a model son since then, trying to reassure his father that he wasn't going to do anything that Sam wouldn't approve of, but that didn't seem to have helped. Sam had been withdrawn and careful with him, and Alec was beginning to get very nervous.

He had to force down all the questions filling his head and just nod. He wanted to know what they were doing here, why this place seemed to make Sam even quieter than usual, what he could do to help — anything to make his father love him — but he didn't dare risk disturbing Sam and pushing him even further away. He couldn't help the confusion in his eyes, though.

Sam looked at him briefly then stared straight ahead at the street, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, "this isn't something I find easy. I grew up here."

"Oh." A small word, but Alec packed a world of meaning into it. Sam had never said anything before about his childhood or his family, and Alec knew that he was being honoured here. Not even Chris knew this, he was sure. He looked around, determined to take in every detail about the place.

There wasn't a lot. The houses were set back from the street with just the slightest hint of a front garden, barely enough for the few flowerpots that were trying vainly to introduce a splash of colour into all that depressing brickwork. The houses themselves clearly weren't all that old — Alec made a mental note to look up when this area had last been redeveloped — but they looked tired. Whoever had built them had just dropped down boxes for people to eat and sleep in, with no thought at all to giving them any energy or security or soul. If there had ever been any get-up-and-go here, it had long since got up and gone.

Alec looked back to his father, more impressed than ever at what Sam had made of his life. "Thank you," he said.

Sam grimaced. "Don't thank me yet," he warned, then reached for the car door with a sigh. "Come on."

Alec unbuckled his seat-belt and joined his father on the pavement. Sam stood staring at one of the wooden front doors for a long moment, seemingly fascinated by the flaking varnish. His face was impassive, but Alec wasn't fooled; he'd never seen his father this nervous before, and that in turn didn't do any favours for his own nerves.

Then, between one breath and the next, Agent Sam Curtis of CI5 was back and reaching decisively for the doorbell. He turned to Alec as the ringing died away, and Alec was alarmed to see that even with all his training, Sam couldn't seem to keep his anxiety off his face.

"Just humour him," Sam said, "and try not to rise to the bait."

"Him?" Alec was going to ask, but the door opened. Standing on the other side was a grey-haired, rather bulky man looking every bit as worn down as the street he lived in.

"Hello, Dad. I thought it was time you met your grandson."

*****

"Not what you expected, lad?"

Sam winced at the challenge in his father's voice. Bill Curtis had taken an instant dislike to the 'stuck up little oik' as he'd angrily labelled the boy while Alec was out of earshot. Normally Alec would have returned the favour with interest, but he was on his best behaviour today. Sam was rather proud of the way his son was keeping his cool.

On this occasion, Alec just shrugged with a sad little smile. "Very little is ever what I expect, sir," he said. "Dad mentioned about the amnesia. It's a lot more than just not being able to remember my name. The first time he put me in a car, I had no idea what was happening."

"It didn't take him long to learn how to drive, though," Sam said quickly before his father could think of something offensive to say about being chauffeured about. "You passed second time, didn't you?"

"Sam passed first time," his father said to no one in particular. Sam clamped down on his irritation yet again; it was typical of the man that he only said something complimentary about Sam to do someone else down.

"Sam didn't have a suicidal pedestrian try to kill herself under his wheels," Alec said wryly, ignoring the insult Sam was sure he must have picked up on. "The examiner got very picky about that; it wasn't like I hit the silly woman or anything."

Sam's father didn't seem to have an answer for that one, and returned to his glowering inspection of Alec. Alec pretended not to notice and sipped at his mug of tea while he looked around the living room again. His eyes kept flicking back to the signed photograph on the mantelpiece.

"There's something you two've got in common," Sam said, nodding towards the photo. "Old films." Apart from his obsession with everything Star Wars, Alec seemed to be determined to rent or buy every black and white film that ever made it onto DVD.

"Good films," Alec fired back, eyes still on the photo. "Is that really...?"

"Ingrid Sommelson, yes. I suppose Sam's told you all about it."

Sam couldn't help bristling at the implication that he'd brag about something that was supposed to have been a peace-offering to his father. How his father had managed to turn it into an insult in his weird inverted-snobbery view of Sam's life was something he'd never understand.

Alec let the aggrieved tone of voice slide past uncommented. "No," he said, sounding intrigued. "There's a story to it?"

Sam's father shrugged. "Sam saved her life," he said dismissively.

Alec turned back to Sam with wide eyes. "Wow," he said, "you got to talk to Ingrid Sommelson. Did you ask her about _Lilac Hill_ , about what that scene with the letter was really supposed to be about—"

"We were a bit busy faking her assassination," Sam interrupted, recognising one of his son's bursts of enthusiasm about to turn into a full-scale interrogation. "We didn't really have time to talk about the details of something she starred in over thirty years ago."

"But you could have at least asked!" Alec protested. He looked to his adopted grandfather for support.

"Sam's never been one to get his priorities straight," Bill Curtis agreed. "I wanted to know whether she was lying to Dirk Bogarde in the hospital scene. What she said made no sense otherwise."

"I know," Alec said excitedly, and just like that they were off. Sam was no slouch with film culture, but his father and his son might as well be talking Greek for all he could follow them. In fact he'd be better off if they were talking Greek, then he would have known what language they were using.

Well, at least they were talking.

*****

"Thank you."

Alec had waited until Sam was stopped at traffic lights before saying anything. The visit to his grandfather had been charged in so many ways, starting to talk about it while they were driving around didn't seem like a good idea.

Sam didn't look over. "I'm sorry about Dad," he said. "I know how important family is to you, and you've earned the right to know, but..." He trailed off, looking lost for a moment.

'But he's all I've got,' Alec filled in for himself. "He's your father, I understand."

"No," Sam said decisively, "no, you don't." He set his jaw and kept his eyes firmly on the road as the car started moving again. Alec subsided, not quite sure what to say to that, and was surprised when Sam suddenly started talking again.

"Dad and I have never got on," he said. "Nothing I've ever done has been good enough for him. Getting a university place, that was getting above myself. Studying modern languages, a waste of money. Working for the government was a dead-end job, and even when I could tell him that it was MI6, he accused me of being a professional liar." He cut across lanes viciously, a chorus of horns objecting behind them. "Now I work for CI5 because I couldn't take the heat of spying, my partner's American because no one decent would take me—"

"And it wouldn't hurt half so much if you didn't still love him," Alec said quietly but firmly. He had timed his interruption to another traffic light, and given how Sam froze he was very glad to have done so. "He's everything you don't want to be — rude, rough, stuck in the mud, prejudiced up to the eyeballs — but you can't help caring about him. You wouldn't be you if you didn't, Dad."

Sam laughed humorlessly. "You wouldn't believe how many times I nearly walked away from him for good," he said.

Alec did smile. "Nearly doesn't count, unless you're talking about hand grenades."

"You deserve better," Sam insisted, ignoring the joke.

"I've already got the best father I could ever hope for," Alec told him, all traces of levity gone. "What more could I want?"

"You can still say that after meeting Dad?" Sam sounded sceptical, as if Curtis _grandpère_ trumped everything. Alec sympathised; it wasn't long since he'd been saying much the same thing.

"A wise man once told me — OK, it was Adam, but he has his moments — he told me that you're still the same person you've always been, and it's that person I'm proud of. So what if my grandfather doesn't like me much? I'll live, and at least I'm in good company."

Sam looked like he was going to object, but another chorus of horns let them know that the traffic lights had changed again. He was silent as he pulled away, and Alec was beginning to wonder if the moment had passed when he spoke again.

"I don't want you to feel obligated to me," he said. "You don't have to pretend to like the situation, I won't hold it against you."

'You don't have to stay with a mixed-up mess like me,' Alec translated to himself. He shook his head. "Most people don't get to choose their families," he told his father quietly. "I did. I'll keep choosing for as long I have to until you get the message." He swallowed; the next words never came easily to him. "I love you, Dad."

Sam didn't say anything, but he put his free arm around Alec's shoulders. When he gathered up the courage to look over at his father, Sam was smiling for the first time that day.

Alec allowed himself to relax at last. He'd say the words every day if he had to, just to be sure his father knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and here ends part two. This story is on hiatus for the moment, not because I don't know what happens next (I have several hundred words of outline) but because I promised to finish other stories first. Sorry, but I write very slowly, so it may be some while before this finally gets completed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here beginneth the third and final part of the story, which happens to be as many chapters as the first two parts put together. Such is outlining.

"Here we go." Chris smiled as he swung the door open for the lovely Helen (5' 7", blonde, and very willing). "Home, sweet home."

In the eleven months since he and Sam had become foster-fathers, he hadn't had time to even consider going out on a date until now. Not that it would have been fair on Adam in the early days, but seriously, just having a teenager around soaked up so much time and attention that spontaneous dates were a no go. Even tonight had taken mission-levels of planning; persuading Adam that he wanted a sleepover with his best friend hadn't been easy, and talking a grumpy Sam into going along with it had been worse. At least Alec hadn't needed to be bribed, though Chris was fairly sure he'd end up paying eventually. For now, though, all that mattered was that the long dry spell was over.

His first intimation that things were not going to plan was that the lights were on.

"Da-ad," came a depressingly familiar cry. Adam appeared in the living room, shirtless and with hair still damp from the shower. "Have you seen my— Oh, hello." He smiled winningly at Helen, who looked much too interested as far as Chris was concerned. "I'm Adam, Chris's son."

"Adopted," Chris said quickly as Helen's eyebrows climbed.

"I see," she said with a little too much enthusiasm. Seeing far too much of Adam, and Chris didn't like her evident interest.

He fixed Adam with a stern gaze. "Weren't you supposed to be at Sam's an hour ago?" he asked pointedly.

Adam at least had the grace to look sheepish. "I was playing _Call of Duty_ and lost track of the time."

"And Alec didn't remind you?"

"I was playing him online," Adam admitted.

Chris resisted the urge to facepalm. "Get dressed and get outta here," he said sternly. Adam gave him a blinding smile and disappeared back into his bedroom. Chris turned back to Helen, giving her a smile himself in an effort to recapture the mood. "Wine?" he asked. Right then he would rather have had a beer, but dating etiquette was clear.

Helen murmured her thanks, still obviously distracted. Chris wasted little time grabbing the bottle and glasses, and tried to make a production of opening and pouring. Helen smiled back at him, but somehow Chris didn't think she was quite as enthusiastic as she had been before. He certainly wasn't.

Still, he had almost managed to get things back on track when Adam reappeared. He was at least fully dressed this time, but his artfully disarranged hair and biking jacket definitely caught Helen's attention again. Chris tried not to grind his teeth too audibly.

"I'm off now, Dad," Adam said brightly. He turned to Helen. "It was nice to meet you," he told her.

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine," she practically purred. Chris had to force a smile back onto his face.

"Er, night," Adam said, apparently taken aback. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he threw at Chris as he left.

"Like that limits me," Chris called back at him. Then again, the chances of there being anything to limit had dropped with every second Helen had spent staring at Adam.

Helen turned back to Chris and gave him a long, considering look. Chris had to work hard on the smile he no longer felt, hiding it behind his wineglass. This was not looking like a fun night any more. He had a nasty feeling that the word 'threesome' was looming in his future.

* * *

Alec opened the door and raised an eyebrow as his friend waltzed in. "You're looking remarkably cheerful for someone who just made his father's shit list," he said.

"Nah," Adam said cheerily as he slipped his jacket off. "Dad was far more pissed off with her by the time I left. Not that I can blame her for noticing this hunk of perfection." He flopped onto the sofa in an entirely self-conscious pose, grinning cheesily.

Alec didn't dignify that with a response. No matter how good he looked, Adam's ego did not need any more feeding. "I still don't understand this obsession with sabotaging Chris's date," he said instead.

Adam looked round quickly, presumably checking for any adults listening in. He needn't have bothered; Sam had gone to bed pleading a headache nearly an hour ago. "You were the one who told me Sam was sulking," he said a little more quietly.

"I said no such thing," Alec countered. Sam had in fact been subdued over the last day or two, but he might simply have been under the weather. "Just because your grandfather thinks our parents are pining for each other doesn't actually make it true, you know."

Adam shrugged. "They totally are," he asserted. Alec shuddered at the grammar.

"Anyway," Adam continued, "you said earlier you wanted to talk about something." He looked at Alec expectantly.

"Ah. Yes." He did and he didn't. Alec sat down and tried to gather his thoughts.

"Is this the sort of talk that requires alcohol?" Adam asked, frowning a little.

"No," Alec sighed. He fished out the bottle of wine Sam had agreed could be sacrificed for their enjoyment anyway. Alcohol might not be strictly necessary, but it might make him feel less of a fool. "You know Mr Malone wants us to report to him on Thursday," he began.

"Not looking forward to that," Adam agreed.

"And it's nearly a year since they found us."

"Eleven months." Adam looked consideringly at Alec. "You think he's going to declare us legally adults?"

"Why else talk to us now? We haven't remembered anything lately, or ever really." And that, in Alec's opinion, couldn't possibly bode well.

"And you're a neurotic over-achiever who doesn't think he has passed enough exams." Adam ignored the narrow look Alec sent him and carried on. "You know Sam isn't going to throw you out just because you're officially too old?"

"But we can't live off them forever." He couldn't face disappointing Sam like that, not when Sam had worked so hard himself.

Adam gave him a very narrow look. "Sam warned you off MI6 again?" he asked.

Alec felt himself flushing. "And MI5," he admitted, "and anything else calling itself a security service. And you know Mr Malone won't even consider us until we have a lot more experience." The two of them had managed to acquire a lot of informal training from their CI5 tutors, but it wasn't the same as real-world experience. That one time in New York had taught him that.

" _Mister_ Malone probably says that to everyone," Adam observed. Alec flushed again at the emphasis on the first word. Everyone told him he was much too polite to the head of CI5. Alec disagreed; referring to him just as 'Malone' was insufficiently respectful to someone of his stature. The thought of calling him 'Harry' was just horrifying.

"That doesn't mean he's wrong," he said.

Adam had apparently decided to ignore him. "Besides," he said, "you have to have noticed that you're ridiculously overqualified for the Met."

"Given your and Chris's opinions of the police, that's not reassuring," Alec fired back, on much safer ground now.

"Seriously, you tick all the boxes for criminal investigation with ticks to spare. You _like_ solving puzzles," Adam continued in tones of faint disgust.

That was a bit rich, Alec thought. Adam might make a fuss about not being academic, but that didn't mean he was stupid. His idea of problem-solving was more direct than Alec's but it worked. Besides, if he knew all of this stuff, he had to have been looking into police recruitment too, and that gave Alec some confidence in his own choices.

"You're better with people than I am," he said, trying to deflect the praise he was getting.

Adam fell for it. "That's more use for a PC," he said with a laugh, "and can you see me in a uniform?"

"Yes." The response was instant, and Alec belatedly realised how insulting it must sound. "Not that you couldn't be plainclothes if you wanted, you lazy so-and-so. Anyway, I thought you were looking at the RAF." Another uniform Adam would look good in.

"It is tempting," Adam admitted, "and it would make Dad happy."

"You just want to fly," Alec teased.

Adam didn't deny it. "I still think you're worrying over nothing," he said. "We're nowhere near finished with all the exams you signed us up for, and you can't tell me you haven't been thinking about college."

Of course Alec had been thinking about college, but he wasn't sure it was right for him. Much as he wanted to learn about, well, everything, he couldn't see it helping his long-term ambitions. "It's never too early to start planning," he replied.

Adam's face was eloquent testimony to what he thought of that. "We're still officially teenagers," he said reaching into his overnight bag. "Let's behave like it while we still can."

Alec looked at the DVD of _Fast & Furious 3_ that had been shoved into his hands and couldn't help but smile in anticipation. "Maybe for tonight," he allowed.

* * *

Adam looked at his phone quizzically. He was expecting a reminder text from Sam about his essay — seriously, Solitaire was more interesting than History — but it was too early for that.

Alec> Alright you bastard, you win.

Adam> ?

Alec> He's *grinning*

Adam> :-)

Adam wasn't nearly as sure that Chris and Sam actually had feelings for each other as he made out, but it was gold for winding up Alec. This was another tick in that column, though. Chris had been distinctly grumpy still when he'd got home, and didn't want to talk about his date night at all. If Sam was suddenly in a good mood, well wasn't that suggestive?

Alec> Is that all you've got to say for yourself?

Adam> Are you telling me you haven't taken advantage of his good mood?

There was silence for long enough that Adam began to wonder if he had overstepped the mark. Alec was very protective of Sam, and Adam couldn't blame him. He felt the same about Chris after all. He was about to text an apology when his phone dinged.

Alec> They found stuff with us.

Adam blinked, started a question, then deleted it. He didn't know where to begin. What stuff? Why had no one mentioned it to them earlier? Why not show them months ago in case it jogged their memories? The only reason Adam didn't bombard Alec with questions was that he knew Alec would be thinking the same things.

Adam> So that's what tomorrow's about

That was the only thing he could think of worth saying. It was always worth pointing out to Alec that he didn't need to be such a worrywart.

Alec> I'll let you know if he drops any other hints.

Adam> He probably won't. I can wait

Not that he wanted to wait, but he could. His dad had taught him the value of patience, much to Alec's disgust since it had markedly improved his chess game. Whether they found out more tonight or not, tomorrow would bring the chance to actually see this "stuff".

Assuming no one was given an excuse to refuse them. Adam sighed and turned back to his homework. He hated it, but skimping on it was no longer an option. It wouldn't be too long before Same started reminding him about it anyway.

Right on cue, his phone dinged again.

Sam> How is the essay going?

Adam> The corn laws are BORING

Sam> True. Now how did they change the country?


	12. Chapter 12

Sam watched the boys slowly circle the table with a gradually sinking heart. Showing them the things they had been found with — mostly the school uniforms that had been cut off them in A&E — had always been a long shot, but it didn't seem to be paying off. "Anything?" he asked more out of duty than hope.

"Nothing, sorry," Alec said sadly. Adam grunted his agreement. "I mean, I can see him wearing that," Alec gestured between Adam and the lion-badged jacket, "but I don't know whether that's a memory or just my imagination."

"That uniform rather than the other?" Malone asked.

"Red and gold are his colours," Alec said with a shrug. He picked up the stick lying next to the jacket, then put it down rapidly. "That's not mine."

"What is it?" Sam asked. Across from him, Chris picked up the clipboard and started flipping through the itemised report, while Adam moved quickly to stand by his friend.

"I don't know," Alec said, eyeing the stick cautiously, "but I got the very distinct impression that it didn't belong to me."

"It's a single solid piece of wood," Chris said. "No visible holes or joins, but X-ray shows some kind of thread running the length of it." That was rather less information than Sam had expected to hear from a CI5 lab report, and judging from his face Chris was thinking much the same.

"What about the other one?" Adam asked.

Chris flipped the page. "Same thing," he reported. Sam's eyebrows climbed. One substandard analysis might have been happenstance, albeit a happenstance that would get the techs torn a new one; two looked very suspicious.

"No, I mean does that one feel like yours?" Adam explained, pointing to the stick by the snake-badged uniform. Alec hesitated nervously for a moment, then very gingerly reached out and picked it up.

"Oh," he said, his face lighting up. "Yes, this feels right." He swished the stick back and forth a few times, looking as happy as Sam had ever seen him. In the fluorescent light of the meeting room, the polished wood almost seemed to glow.

"Here goes nothing," Adam said, and grabbed the stick Alec had rejected. He too smiled and straightened up, closing his eyes in evident pleasure. "Oh yeah," he whispered, then launched into a rapid series of moves. It looked a bit like a kata, but if so it belonged to no martial art Sam had ever seen.

Adam stopped and frowned. "That was... something," he said uncertainly.

"Muscle memory," Malone commented.

Both boys whirled, having apparently forgotten about their audience. Sam would have laughed, but they had fallen into awfully familiar stances. Malone merely raised an eyebrow and said, "As is that, I presume. Your conscious minds may not recall anything, but your subconsciouses know how to execute certain patterns. I imagine Mr Keel has been impressing that upon you during your sparring sessions."

Sam didn't suppress his smile at the wince that evoked from the boys. Officially, Chris was treating them to a watered-down version of CI5's rough-and-ready advanced class in self-defence. Unofficially, it wasn't so watered down. He and Sam had hoped this would dissuade the boys from following in their footsteps. Fat chance of that; they were in fact doing pretty well given that they had clearly never had any training before. They had actually handled Backup's surprise assault course better than most recruits, in large part because they treated the oddest things as potentially dangerous. Their biggest problem was that they tended to drop into what Chris called "freaking useless bad fencing stances," exactly as they just had. Those stances looked a lot more purposeful with their sticks in their hands, but Sam still couldn't see them being practical. It wasn't like the sticks were big enough or heavy enough to work as combat batons.

"Have you remembered anything?" Chris asked.

Adam shook his head. "Sorry, Dad. Except..." He hesitated, looking very unsure of himself. "It's like I was missing something, and now I'm not." Beside him, Alec nodded slowly.

Malone spent another five minutes trying to tease more details out of the boys before dismissing them to Backup and Spencer's tender mercies. Sam shared a sympathetic smile with his son, knowing the grilling they would be going through. It didn't even occur to him until they were out of the door that both boys had taken their sticks with them.

"Thoughts?" Malone said crisply.

"Something clearly struck a chord," Sam said, electing to start with the obvious. "It looked like holding those sticks came naturally to them."

"Yeah," Chris added, "I don't think Adam realised what he was doing when he stuck it in his waistband."

"Which implies they've had and used them for a long time," Sam concluded. "God knows why, though. They look pretty useless."

"What exactly do the reports say about them?" Malone asked.

"Pretty much just what I said," Chris reported. "There's the X-rays, the exact dimensions, probable type of wood and a note to ask permission before doing any destructive tests."

"I received no such request," Malone said in tones that promised no good to the lab techs.

Sam stirred uneasily. "Sir, if the lab is potentially compromised—" He stopped as Malone held up a hand.

"I'm afraid you will have to leave that investigation to Ms Backus and Mr Spencer. I have another task for the pair of you." Malone handed a briefing packet to each of them before settling back in his chair.

"Lantern Media," he said, "is not nearly so grandiose an operation as its name suggests, but it is establishing a reputation as a reliable photographic studio."

"Very artistic," Chris commented, lifting a picture of a scantily clad Miss July for closer inspection. Sam kicked his ankle on general principles.

"They have come to our attention," Malone continued frostily, "because a number of models they have used have been caught in possession of the latest in designer drugs."

Over a period of several months, Sam noted as he scanned the briefing. "There's no other connection?" he asked.

"Not that account for all of them," Malone confirmed, "and even that is a trifle tenuous. One of the models had only worked for Lantern Media once, shortly before his arrest."

"I take it the police search has come up empty?" Chris asked.

"Nothing stronger than aspirin." Malone gave Chris a shut-up-and-listen glare which as usual bounced off. "The only other commonality between these people is that they have all vehemently protested their innocence."

Sam raised an eyebrow and Chris snorted. "Don't they always?" he said, echoing Sam's thought.

"Rarely so convincingly," Malone told them. "I had the opportunity to sit in on the interview of the latest courier to be arrested. Had I not known he had been caught red-handed, I might well have believed him."

Sam raised both eyebrows this time. "That convincing?" he asked.

"Indeed." Malone seemed quite disturbed by the thought, which really worried Sam. Malone was an expert interrogator. If he was in two minds on the subject, something really peculiar was going on.

"We have arranged for a modelling agency to hire you two out to Lantern Media tomorrow," Malone continued after a moment's pause. "You will investigate and report back. Be careful, gentlemen. Too many aspects of this case make no sense yet."

"Shouldn't be too difficult," Chris said cheerily. "We just have to behave like air-headed clothes horses and no one will think twice about us."

"A task not beyond your acting skills, I'm sure," Malone said sharply. "And no, Mr Keel, that does not mean that you may buy more clothing on expenses."

* * *

"Tell me there are pictures," Adam demanded.

"There are no pictures," Sam said unconvincingly as he headed into the kitchen.

"You were on an underwear photoshoot," Alec pointed out, taking the pizza boxes off Adam. "By definition, there are pictures."

"There are no pictures you will ever see," Chris corrected. He put a six-pack of beer on the coffee table.

"Just as long as they exist," Adam replied, flopping onto the sofa next to Alec. If the photos existed, Backup would have got copies somehow. Then it was just a matter of finding the right bribe, and Adam had several ideas for that already.

Chris was looking at him narrowly, but Alec provided a distraction. "Can you at least tell us what happened?" he asked. He raised his voice to add, "Certain people have been less than forthcoming with the details."

"That's because there's nothing to tell," Sam said mildly, reappearing with a stack of plates.

"But—"

"No," Chris said firmly, claiming the armchair that was normally Sam's province. "There will be no discussion of anything, not while we have beer, pizza and an action movie to watch."

"He's already vetoed _Zoolander_ ," Adam told Alec. Chris bopped him with a cushion.

The film was suitably full of gunfire and big explosions. Adam enjoyed it despite not giving it his full attention; he was quietly planning how to tease the juicy details out now that his dad was more relaxed. Unfortunately Chris didn't give him the opportunity. The moment the credits started rolling he was out of his seat and heading for the kitchen, promising coffee for everyone. So much, Adam thought, for being more relaxed.

"One might almost think someone's masculinity was being threatened," Alec said with quiet amusement. He looked at his father expectantly, and Adam followed suit.

Sam rolled his eyes. "There's still nothing to tell," he insisted. "We sat through a self-important photographer's idea of an induction interview, planted bugs in the locker room and spent the rest of the day smiling for the camera. That's all."

That didn't explain Chris's prickly mood. Adam looked narrowly at Sam, wondering what he wasn't saying.

"Just how brief were those briefs?" Alec asked shrewdly.

Sam coloured slightly, but his voice stayed mild. "Chris has worn skimpier Speedoes," he said. Adam quietly stored away the fact that Sam noticed Chris wore skimpy Speedoes. Chris insisted they were always a hit with the girls at the poolside. Of course, there wouldn't have been many women around today...

"How inappropriate were the appreciative comments?" he asked as innocently as he could.

Sam definitely coloured this time. "All the talk about his glistening abs may have been a little much," he admitted.

"Glistening?" Adam did not squeak. Much.

"Oil, or whatever it is they use for that active look," Sam said in a determinedly unembarrassed tone. "Nobody gets that sweaty in a photographic studio, even under those lights."

Adam let that thought percolate a bit, not at all sure how to press Sam about his reaction. Alec beat him to it.

"You had to defend him from admirers wanting to help him with those hard-to-reach spots, didn't you?"

"It would have been wrong to leave them thinking he was available," Sam said coolly. He smirked at them and stood. "I'd better see what's taking that coffee so long."

It took Adam several seconds to realise he was gaping like a fish. He shut his jaw with an audible click.

"He was playing us," Alec said firmly but quietly.

Well, yes, of course, Adam thought as he managed to kick-start his brain back into action. That wasn't all though. "He was distracting us from his own reactions," he protested, keeping quiet enough that the adults in the kitchen couldn't hear.

"Embarrassment is a perfectly natural response," Alec retorted.

A weak argument, Adam thought. "And Dad?"

"Embarrassment is a perfectly natural response for him too."

"That's not embarrassment," Adam insisted. He knew what an embarrassed Chris looked like, and it generally involved a lot more shouting. No, that was Chris avoiding the issue, whether he knew it or not.

Alec looked at him sharply. "Have you been tormenting the psychiatrists again?"

"Always, but stop trying to change the subject. You were the one who thought his masculinity had been threatened."

"Can't it be both?" Alec asked plaintively.

"So you admit I'm right, then?"

Alec sighed. "I admitted your hypothesis wasn't entirely without merit days ago," he said. "I still think you're reading too much into it."

No you don't, Adam managed not to say. Alec might not be freaking out about the idea of gay relationships in general any more, but he still wasn't comfortable with their parents perhaps maybe a bit having the hots for each other. Which was interesting in itself, but now really wasn't the time.

Instead he looked towards the kitchen, where things were suspiciously quiet. "What are they doing?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I want to think about that," Alec said glumly.

"So not what I meant," Adam told him. "I was promised coffee."

Judging from the look on Alec's face, his attempt to change the subject was an abject failure. Still, Alec didn't hesitate to join him as Adam rose and, with entirely reasonable caution, poked his nose into the kitchen.

Nothing untoward was happening, at least. Chris and Same were both frowning, however, clearly thinking hard about something. Adam was torn between wanting to know what it was and not wanting to disturb them. "Um," he said hesitantly.

"The newsagents," Chris said slowly. Adam had no idea what he was talking about.

"Oh," Alec said, light apparently dawning. "Across the road from the studio? No one would think twice about models, or anyone really, popping in there. I googled the area," he added defensively as Adam raised an eyebrow.

"So you think that's the distribution centre?" Adam asked. It sounded a bit thin to him.

"We should check it out," Sam said flatly.

"What, now? It's midnight!"

"Now is a good time," Chris said sombrely. He and Sam left the kitchen purposefully, the boys trailing behind them. Adam was beginning to feel a little creeped out by the way the adults were acting, but he didn't know what to do about it. Maybe Chris and Sam just got this... intense sometimes when they were hot on the trail.

"Perhaps we should—" Alec began as Chris opened the door. Sam cut him off.

"Wait here," he ordered. "We won't be long."

Adam spent a long moment staring at the door after it closed behind them. "Well," he sighed eventually, "that was weird."

"Very," Alec agreed. "I've never seen Dad like that before. I'm not sure I like it."

"Me neither," Adam said. He turned back to the kitchen. "I guess we're going to need that coffee if we're waiting up for them."

They were still waiting, hours later, when Backup called them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: things are not as they seem. Then again, when are they ever?

There were times that Tina Backus really hated her job. Being called in after not enough sleep had been a bad start, especially when it was because the police had found CI5 IDs on a couple of bodies. Tina had kept her hopes up at first; the bodies had been badly burned in what the police were already calling arson, and it wouldn't have been the first time someone had tried to hide an abduction like that.

Unfortunately that hope dimmed as the forensic reports came in. They were still waiting on the DNA tests, but everything else was telling them that luck had finally run out for 3-7 and 4-5. The boys were distraught of course; they hid it well, immediately offering a report on what Chris and Sam had been doing at that shop, but Tina didn't need to be a psychologist to see how badly it hurt them.

Identifying the bodies was the last straw for Tina. Protocol demanded that formal identification be done by relatives, which meant Alec and Adam. Tina had raged about the crass insensitivity of it, insisting that the boys were much too fragile right now. It could wait for a better time.

"There is no better time," Malone had said. He looked old and tired, as affected by the deaths of his best agents as anyone else. That more than anything else had silenced Tina's arguments. That was why she was standing in the medical bay now, watching the boys stare at sheet-covered bodies.

"Are you ready?" she asked, trying futilely to delay the inevitable.

"No," Alec admitted, "but is anyone ever ready for this?"

Tina had no answer for him. She just signalled to the medics to remove the sheets. She couldn't bear to look at the badly-burned bodies of her friends, so she watched the boys carefully instead.

Both of them stiffened as the sheets came off, and Tina ached at the loss written across their faces. It was bad enough for her, losing close friends like this, but Sam and Chris had been the centres of Alec and Adam's lives since they had woken up in hospital. To lose them so suddenly and completely... Tina couldn't even imagine it.

"Is it them?" she asked, hating that she had to.

"Yes," Adam whispered brokenly.

Beside him Alec nodded. "I'm sorry, Dad," he choked out, reaching to cup what was left of Sam's cheek. "I l—"

Tina didn't realise he had frozen until his head snapped up, eyes blazing. "It's not him," he declared.

"W-what?" Adam asked, startled out of his misery.

"It looks like him," Alec said, "but it doesn't feel like him. I don't know who this is, but it isn't Sam."

"I know you don't want to believe it," Tina said gently. "I don't want to believe it either, but the tests all say that it's Sam."

"Then the tests are wrong!" Alec insisted angrily.

"He's right," Adam said, his voice hard. He looked up from where he had been leaning over Chris, studying his body closely. "Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to fool us, but I know my dad. That's not him."

"Which means that they're still alive," Alec said before Tina could break in. "Why go to all this trouble to convince us they're dead otherwise?"

"Which means we have to be debriefed again," Adam said. He looked significantly at Alec, who grimaced but nodded.

"Mr Malone," he said reluctantly. "This needs to be done properly." They turned for the door.

"Whoa!" Tina said, hurriedly putting herself in the way. "You can't just go barging into Malone's office. You need to clear it with me or —" She broke off as the door behind her opened and Spencer walked in. They boys took advantage of her distraction to slip out.

"They didn't take it well?" Spencer asked as Tina swore quietly.

"They're heavily in denial all of a sudden," she explained. "Now they're off to bother Malone, and I'll catch hell for it."

"Maybe this will help persuade them," Spencer said, handing her a manilla folder. The results of the DNA tests, and Tina could tell from the look on his face what they would say.

"Let's hope so," she sighed. Somehow she didn't think it would be that easy.

* * *

"I can't believe they wouldn't listen to us," Adam fumed.

Alec hung his jacket on the back of the door and watched his friend pace with faint amusement. "You have to admit it does sound unlikely," he said.

"Not you too!"

"I'm just saying." Alec settled onto the sofa, all the better to watch. "We know it's not them, but a lot of effort has been put into fooling the tests." The look was uncanny, he had to admit, but Alec know what his father felt like. That body was not and never had been Sam.

"And of course they ignore us and believe their precious NDA tests." Adam hurled himself into a chair — not Chris's, Alec noted — for all of two seconds before standing and pacing again.

"DNA," Alec corrected. "Deoxyribo Nucleic Acid. NDAs are Non-Disclosure Agreements."

Adam huffed dismissively. "And then they send us home like kids with instructions to stay here and keep out of trouble. I bet they even left Eric on watch just to rub it in." That wasn't entirely fair, Alec thought. For a six foot black brick outhouse, Eric Ledham did a remarkably good job of blending into the background. If Alec hadn't been expecting him too, he'd never have spotted him. If you wanted someone discreetly guarded, he was one of the best.

"They're just trying to make sure we're safe," he said mildly.

"They're trying to make sure we don't do anything," Adam countered.

"No one actually said that," Alec observed.

Adam stopped dead and looked at him. Really looked, Alec noted. Like Adam he had changed into dark, tough clothes eminently suitable for sneaking around now it was dark. Also like Adam, he had his stick tucked into the waistband of his jeans. It bothered him a little that he felt so much more comfortable with it, but now wasn't the time for that. Besides, his father's spare pistol and weapons harness were in his overnight bag.

"We never actually promised," Adam said slowly.

Alec smiled. "Is your bike still parked on the other side of the graveyard?" he asked. Adam grinned.

Twenty minutes later, after sneaking out of a back window, they pulled up two streets over from where the bodies had been found. Adam pulled off his helmet and shook his shaggy ginger hair free. "The newsagents?" he said.

"It'll be crawling with arson investigators," Alec replied, removing his own helmet. He pulled on a woolly hat to hide his own pale blond hair. "Besides, whatever had them acting so oddly must have happened at the studio." That was the bit that really rankled, that CI5 just discounted their report of Chris and Sam's behaviour.

"You're thinking post-hypnotic suggestion?" Adam asked as the two of them headed down the street. He sounded a little dubious and Alec couldn't blame him.

"I can't imagine how both of them got hypnotised," he admitted, "but I can't think of anything else that fits." It didn't make much sense; their fathers were experienced agents, there was no way that they'd willingly submit to hypnosis, not for something like a photoshoot. Still, there could have been something innocent-seeming, like flash guns going off in a hypnotic pattern. Finding evidence like that was the main reason for investigating Lantern Media right now, before someone got worried enough to hide or destroy it.

Getting into the studio would have been tricky if there weren't two of them. As it was, Alec could bypass the alarm systems while Adam worked his magic on the office window, then Adam returned the favour from the inside so Alec didn't have to leave any traces of his handiwork. All textbook stuff, or it would be if their trainers ever wrote textbooks.

The office was disappointingly ordinary. Alec spent a good ten minutes riffling through order books and loose invoices with his penlight, looking for anything out of place. Adam took most of that time getting into the wall safe, which turned out just to contain petty cash and official paperwork. The usual detritus of small companies, Alec thought to himself. Time to look elsewhere. He looked significantly at Adam and pointed at the door.

Adam nodded and drifted over, listening intently at the door for a few moments to be sure there was no one on the other side. He opened it silently and slipped into the corridor beyond, Alec following in his wake. After a moment of silent argument they turned right, deeper into the building. Whatever was going on, Alec reckoned that whoever was responsible would want it as far away from windows as they could get.

They were approaching a corner when Adam lifted his hand, sniffed the air and flattened himself against the wall. Alec followed suit. He could smell cigarette smoke and hear movement from around the corner. Their best bet was to catch whoever it was by surprise, before they knew...

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Alec froze, not sure who the angry demand was aimed at. Fortunately another voice replied guiltily, "We aren't allowed to smoke downstairs."

"We aren't allowed upstairs with all the fuss on, and you know it. You'd be in deep shit if the bugs weren't already taken care of. You're bloody lucky I spotted you, not Tony."

"What's Tony gonna do about it?"

"Tell the boss you need retraining."

Apparently this was a real and serious threat. There was a pause before the smoker said "Fuck," in tones little short of panic.

"Yeah. He's pissed off about the guests, and he'll be getting people with training out of that. Now get your arse back down to the dorms while it's still yours to get."

Alec exchanged a quick, angry glance with Adam as the voices moved away from them. It looked like Adam hadn't missed the reference to 'guests' either. That had to have something to do with their parents, which might be a leap of faith his father would have frowned at but he didn't care right then. Following these idiots had become a priority.

They slipped silently around the corner in time to see two men disappear through a pair of double doors. 'Mens Lockers' a sign proclaimed when they got near enough to read it. One of the places Sam said they'd bugged, Alec thought; apparently they had found CI5's bugs somehow, otherwise Spencer at least would have noticed the activity. Moving slowly and carefully they sneaked through the doors, watching and listening for the men they were trailing.

At first Alec couldn't figure out where they'd gone. It wasn't until he noticed his eyes were skipping past one row of lockers that he knuckled down, really focused his attention and noticed a door being pulled close _from the inside._ "Locker 13," he whispered, trying to commit the number to memory despite the impossible way it kept trying to slip away from him. Thirt... what was it again?

'13?' Adam signed, and Alec nearly kissed him. That he could remember.

'In there,' he signed back, belatedly remembering he shouldn't even whisper while sneaking around.

Adam looked around, frowning. '13?' he repeated.

Alec looked at the lockers again. He had to really concentrate to even see locker 13, which was weird but somehow not. Typical of his memory to tantalise him just when he was too busy to pay attention to it. Whatever strange thing was going on obviously wasn't entirely strange to him. If he knew what it was, it might help him rescue his dad, but he didn't and he wasn't going to waste time worrying about it. Dad was more important.

He took hold of the locker's handle and heard Adam gasp behind him. He turned to see Adam concentrating ferociously, staring at a point two inches past Alec's left shoulder. Whatever was making it hard to notice the locker was apparently now making it hard to notice him too. That made sense if you didn't want the people using it to draw attention to the locker. He reached out and grabbed Adam by the wrist. Adam quickly refocused on him. Good, that probably meant they were both unnoticeable now.

The locker opened onto a corridor that, short as it was, definitely didn't exist in the space behind it. Alec decided to go with the part of him that wasn't very surprised. Beside him Adam was still frowning, though it was a different frown now. 'Familiar?' Alec signed hopefully. Adam shrugged. It was and it wasn't, apparently, just like Alec felt.

Alec lead the way into the base, as he was thinking of it, again not exactly surprised by the odd feeling as he stepped into the locker. His focus was entirely on the security camera currently not pointed their was.

This was going to take some time.

* * *

Chris didn't so much wake up as slowly become aware that he was already awake.

He'd had the weirdest dream. He and Sam had needed to check out a newsagents, so they'd gone to the photo studio and dressed their doubles in their clothes so that they could check the place out instead. Then somehow they had moved into these really plain rooms and Chris had helped Sam cover himself in baby oil, which honestly didn't seem as wrong as it should have. Then Sam had stayed behind while Chris had been lead off to a new room where a strange man had waved a stick at him. Someone had suggested he would be more comfortable lying down, and it had seemed like an entirely reasonable idea, so he had got onto this hard bench. It wasn't much more comfortable but everyone had left, so he stayed there like it all made perfect sense. And then... and then after a whole lot of nothing it was now, and Chris wasn't sure just how long he'd been lying here. He'd have checked his watch, but he wasn't wearing it. Or anything else for that matter, and he was only just realising that (a) this wasn't a dream, and (b) something was very wrong.

Chris inspected the room he was in as best he could without moving more than his eyes. He wasn't sure how much of his dream had been real, but it seemed like a safe bet that he was in hostile hands. Tipping them off that he had come round would take away one of his few advantages.

The room was a small cell offering little more than the hard shelf he was lying on. Nothing to hide behind or use as a weapon, not even a mattress he could impede guards with. Chris noted the camera above the door. It wasn't trying to be subtle and it would take him seconds to disable if he had to, which implied they didn't think he could do anything much to them. That would be their first mistake, or second if you counted kidnapping him and Sam in the first place.

Slowly and subtly, Chris started testing his arm and leg muscles, trying to determine what his range of motion was. As he did it, he worried about what had happened to Sam. He was probably in a similar cell, plotting how to unlock the door using his fingernails or something. The part of his dream about oiling Sam up was seriously bothering him now he was thinking clearly. He couldn't imagine that happening in real life, but what did it way about him that he imagined it at all? He was putting sensual overtones on it now, which made no sense at all. Chris had no issues with homosexuality, which was just as well given the signs of attraction he was beginning to detect between Adam and Alec, but he wasn't gay himself. Though if he was attracted to men, Sam was the sort of man he would be attracted to.

There was a noise at the door. Chris put aside his worrying and rolled to his feet. His limbs were still unsteady, but at least he was in a position to take advantage of any opening his captors gave him.

They weren't stupid enough to march straight in, unfortunately. Instead the door was opened a couple of inches, just enough for a metal bracelet to be tossed inside. "Put it on," a bored voice said.

"Yeah, I don't think so," Chris called back. "It doesn't go with my outfit." If they wanted it on him, he probably shouldn't even touch it.

"Then we take it out on your partner," the voice said as if this was just another tedious everyday chore. "You'll do it eventually, but the longer you make him wait, the angrier the boss will be. Cut the crap and save everyone the pain."

Ah, the old trick of threatening his partner. Chris was confident that Sam could take whatever these people could dish out, but he needed to pick his battles. The fresher Sam was, the easier their escape would be, so Chris needed to save his stubbornness for the big things. He didn't as yet know how big this bracelet was.

Nothing happened when he poked at it gingerly. The band was wide, engraved with a complex geometrical design, but too thin to contain anything mechanical. It could easily hold a tracking chip, but not an injector. He sighed, picked it up and turned it over a couple of times, just to be sure. No, he decided, this one wasn't worth fighting. It might even give him an advantage if they thought they knew where he was.

The bracelet slipped over his left hand easily. Chris raised a fist in ironic salute to the camera. "See, I told you it doesn't suit me."

"Sure," the bored voice replied. "Now, just to show we mean business..."

Someone had dipped his left arm in molten metal. That's what it felt like anyway once Chris got over the pure shock of that much pain. It couldn't have lasted more than a second, but it still left him gasping for breath. Right, he thought, fight or not that damn thing was coming off.

The door swung open as he was futilely tugging at the metal that now lay tight around his wrist. Two men stood in the doorway wearing what Chris might have called a uniform if he was feeling generous. "It doesn't come off," the one on the left said in a by now familiar voice, "not until the boss wants it to. Get too far away from us and it'll activate. Do something we don't like and it'll activate. Look at us wrong and it'll activate. Got that?"

Chris scowled at the man, then had to grit his teeth against another wave of indescribable pain. He had no idea how they were controlling the bracelet, he hadn't seen either man move to press a button.

"Got that?" the man repeated more loudly. Chris kept his eyes down so he wouldn't scowl again and mumbled something like agreement.

"I can't hear you," the man said, and this time he sounded positively happy. Chris braced himself for more pain, but it didn't come. Instead the second man slapped the first over the back of the head.

"Stop being an arse," he said. "The boss wants him intact and sane. Save your sadism for when he's disobedient."

"He's got to understand what'll happen," the first one protested. Chris mentally labelled him 'Bad Cop'. He'd played the part often enough to recognise the strategy; get him to hate the bad cop and he might lower his guard around the good cop.

Good Cop turned to Chris. "What are the rules?" he asked.

"Do what you tell me," Chris paraphrased, keeping his eyes down. "Don't try anything. Otherwise you zap me."

"Now look at me and try that again." There was an edge to Good Cop's voice this time. What Chris looked up there was almost worry in his eyes, like he was willing Chris not to screw this up.

Throw him a bone, Chris thought. If Good Cop thought he was winning, he might slip up. "Do what you tell me," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster. "Don't try anything."

Good Cop held his eyes for several seconds. He seemed satisfied by what he saw; at any rate he relaxed. "Good enough," he told Chris. "If you can keep that up, you might get through training quick enough to save your friend."

"What are you talking about?" Chris demanded. The implicit threat to Sam had him taking a step towards the man without even thinking about it. The crippling pain was an unpleasant reminder that this was a bad move.

"No questions," Bad Cop said, smirking broadly.

Good Cop sighed and shook his head. "You'll be told when the boss wants you to know. Now, move."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a certain amount of magical torture happens in this chapter. Nothing too graphic, but still.

Adam was glad he had Alec with him in this impossible underground base. Having someone he trusted totally at his back made dealing with all the half-expected strangeness so much easier. Plus Alec was better at dealing with the security cameras than he was, not that they had encountered many since stepping through the locker.

The place was absurdly big. On the plus side, avoiding the sparse guard patrols had been almost too easy. On the minus side, Adam's mental map was getting severely stretched. They had come across so many supply closets, toilets, a laundry and even a barracks room they'd slipped quietly past, all behind anonymous doors. It looked like these people just didn't care about anything once you were past the initial security. Which was pretty impressive, Adam had to admit, but his dad had taught him often enough that relying on just one thing to keep you safe was asking to be spanked.

The people round the corner from them right now couldn't be another patrol, not given how loudly they were complaining about the current lockdown. It was just as well they were so sloppy, there weren't many places to hide within easy reach. Adam picked the nearest lock in seconds, let Alec slide in ahead of him and close the door as noiselessly as he had opened it. It was only once inside that he realised the room was dimly lit, unlike the closets, and occupied by someone already turning to face them.

Adam hit the lights, figuring that a dazzled opponent would put up less resistance. Alec already had his gun out and was hissing orders to keep quiet, so Adam took a moment to take in the scene. At first he thought it was a kid there, cringing in front of a weird but familiar chemistry set and wearing not a stitch of clothing. But no, he had to be near their own age, small and scrawny and bent over to make himself look even smaller. Then Adam noticed the confused, fearful eyes and the scar, and a pressure began in the back of his head.

A lightning bolt scar.

_Avada_ -green eyes.

Remembering everything in one go hurt like a bitch. Ron Weasley gritted his teeth and looked sadly at his oldest friend. "Oh Harry," he said softly, "what happened to you?"

Harry Potter peered myopically at him. "Ron?" he mouthed, evidently taking Alec's orders completely seriously.

"Yeah, it's me," Ron holstered his gun and slowly drew his wand, careful not to look threatening. He was acutely aware of Alec beside him, gun still pointed levelly at Harry even while his other hand was pressed up to his temple and his face was screwed up with pain. "Look," Ron said to Harry, "I need you to stop there and stay still for a minute, OK?" Harry nodded timorously and did his best to freeze like a statue.

Ron turned slightly to Alec, not taking his eyes of Harry. "It's OK," he murmured, "I've got this. Let yourself remember."

Eighteen years of memories didn't seem any less painful for Alec. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron noticed the look of horror as Draco Malfoy's history crashed down on him. Then that expressive face went blank, which probably meant that Alec had convinced himself he was worthless again. Adam... Ron would have to deal with that, but not in front of Harry.

"Right," Alec said, drawing himself up into full Malfoyish snobbery. "Tell us what's happened, Potter."

"The light ruined the potion," Harry reported obediently. "I'll have to start again, and now I'll be late and Daddy will be angry and he'll punish me because ingredients are expensive and I should have locked the door and —"

"Whoa," Ron said, trying to stop the flow of self-recrimination before Harry actually worked himself into tears. He was sounding as bad as Dobby ever had. "You did lock the door, Harry; I unlocked it. You didn't do anything wrong."

Harry looked sadly at his feet. "Daddy will still punish me," he said. "He punished me when the last batch was lost. Bad boys have to be punished, and I'm always a bad boy."

"Bull!" Ron said forcefully.

Alec shushed him. "This 'Daddy'," he said, "what is his name?"

Harry went still. "I'm not supposed to say it. Please don't make me, please, I'll be good—"

"It's alright," Ron said quickly, "you don't have to say anything."

Alec nodded. "We just wanted to be sure we were in the right place," he said smoothly. "We have a surprise for Daddy, you see."

Harry's eyes went wide, and he looked hopefully at Ron. Ron nodded, rapidly beating himself back into thinking as Adam Keel should. They had parents to find, and Harry might know something useful. "I don't want to spoil anything," he said leaning in conspiratorially, "but it's to do with the new guests."

Harry looked dubious for a moment before schooling his features and looking down. Adam might have missed it if he hadn't been looking hard. "Daddy likes teaching people how to be good," Harry said. "He says there must be something wrong with me, when I say that I'll be good I don't really mean it. I really do try, but even when I say the same words they do, it doesn't work. The magic doesn't lie, Daddy says."

"I'm sure you'll figure out what the problem is," Alec said awkwardly. "Do you know where the guests are? We really need to see them to be sure of our surprise." He was far too blank-faced to be reassuring in Adam's opinion, but it didn't seem to matter to Harry.

"I'm sorry," he said meekly. "I only get to see other bad boys when Daddy is punishing both of us. Please don't punish me."

Adam was flummoxed by the plea. Alec seem to take it in his stride. "You don't know something you're not supposed to know," he said. "Punishing you would be... unfair."

Harry looked at him oddly, but said nothing. Whoever this 'Daddy' was, Adam reckoned that little things like fairness didn't stop him from punishing Harry like that. At least that probably meant that Voldemort was dead, otherwise a place like this would be crawling with wizards.

"Is Daddy punishing you now, making you brew potions without even gloves?" Adam tried to keep his voice neutral; no sense in letting Harry think they weren't on Daddy's side. There was no telling what he might do if he thought they weren't 'good boys'.

Harry looked down again. "Only good boys are allowed to wear clothes," he said. "Daddy says if I splash myself it's my own fault, and I'll be more careful next time."

"Oh." Adam had to clamp down on his feelings hard. He knew from Snape's tender tutelage that potion burns hurt, and he doubted that Harry was being given the medical care Neville had regularly needed. Then it occurred to him that his and Alec's parents were not 'good boys', and he really had to work to keep his feelings off face.

Alec took charge. "I think you should get ready to make another batch of potion, but not actually start it yet. We need to get our surprise ready, and if it works Daddy won't want you to make any today." Adam shot him a look; Alec's words implied they were leaving Harry here. He got a tiny shake of the head in return. Another argument for later, then.

He smiled encouragingly at Harry, willing him to believe he wasn't being abandoned. "We'll be back as quick as we can," he said. "Remember, you mustn't tell anyone about us being here you'll ruin the surprise. No, not even Daddy," he added before Harry could ask.

Alec smiled as he cracked the door open and slipped out. It looked ghastly, but it seemed to be enough for Harry. Adam gave his old friend something a lot more genuine as he followed his best friend. Once in the corridor he took charge, leading them two doors down to an actual broom closet this time.

"He's emotionally unstable and used to obeying the people here," Alec said without prompting. He was trying to look calm and unemotional, but Adam knew him better than that. "We can go back for him once we've got Chris and Sam, but right now he's a liability."

Adam considered this for a moment. "OK," he said.

Alec blinked. "OK?" he said uncertainly.

"Yup. We can't afford to take the time to keep him cooperating. We know where he is — hell, we know that he's alive and here, and however much it hurts to see him like that, we can pick him up later." He looked keenly at Alec and sighed. "I need to give you the speech again, don't I?"

"What? No, I'm fine."

"No you're not. You didn't call Sam 'Dad'."

"But he's not my father, is he?" Alec bit out. A moment later he coloured, evidently regretting he'd said anything. It wasn't like Adam didn't know that was the crux of the matter, but still.

"I think he might disagree," Adam said gently. "I do. Sam Curtis has been more of a father to you in the last year than Lucius Malfoy ever was."

Alec didn't deny it. After a moment he said quietly, "I told him once that I'd been lucky enough to choose my family, and I didn't regret my choice. I don't know what to do," he admitted.

"Yeah, you do," Adam told him. "Back there with Harry, with everything going on in your head, you carried right on being a bit of a bastion." That use of Sam's humorous self-description earned him a glare followed by a weak smile. "You're doing the right thing, mate. I have faith in you."

"But..." Alec sighed, rubbed his forehead and tried again. "It's like everything has turned upside down. You're Ron Weasley, you're supposed to hate my guts forever. What happened to that?"

"I met Alec Curtis," Adam said simply. It really was that simple to him; Alec was like a brother, maybe even more than Percy or the twins had been.

"But what if I—"

"You won't. C'mere." Adam pulled Alec into a gentle hug, trying to reassure him that he wasn't alone in this, that Adam didn't hate him and wasn't going to abandon him. He had noticed a long time ago that for all his mastery of words, it was actions that mattered most to Alec.

Alec didn't let himself be hugged for long, not that Adam expected anything different. He visibly pulled himself together, then quirked an eyebrow at Adam. "Come on," he said, "we have parents to find. Those cameras won't loop themselves."

"Oh, I don't know," Adam said airily, brandishing his wand. "My — uh, Arthur Weasley was Head of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, remember? I may have picked up a few tricks I'm not strictly speaking supposed to know."

Alec clutched his hand to his heart dramatically. "A Weasley admits to doing something not completely legal?" he gasped.

"I know you met the twins."

* * *

Whoever was in charge of this operation liked his luxuries, Chris decided. The corridors that he had been marched through had been plain and utilitarian, the sort of thing you could find anywhere if it wasn't for the lack of windows. The room he was led into wouldn't have looked out of place in a colonial mansion; wood-panelled and candle-lit, it was dominated by a huge hearth in which a real fire burned brightly. A decanter and a single glass stood on a small table next to a wing-back chair in which an elegantly dressed man sat, his face shrouded in shadows.

"Ah, Christopher," the man said in a cultured British accent. "Welcome to the rest of your life."

As psychological warfare went it wasn't bad, Chris had to admit. Being paraded naked through the corridors would have disconcerted him if his time as a SEAL hadn't knocked the body modesty out of him. This little set piece was designed to make him feel insignificant and out of place while emphasising the power of the man in front of him. If Chris hadn't been chewed out by Malone so often, it might even have worked. He kept his mouth shut and scanned the room as unobtrusively as he could, the beginnings of a plan forming.

"This is where you thank me for being such a beneficent overlord," the boss-man continued. The humour in his voice was dry as dust.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Seems a little premature," he said. Predictably his arm erupted in pain. It wasn't getting any easier to bear, he decided one he could think again.

"Anthony," the boss chided. "I decide the punishments meted out here."

Bad Cop quickly dropped to his knees. "I'm sorry, master," he said urgently. "Please forgive my enthusiasm." Good Cop didn't look impressed but kept his mouth shut. Chris followed suit, mostly because he was still recovering his breath.

The boss let Bad Cop squirm for a long moment. "I will allow this one lapse," he said eventually. Bad Cop sagged in obvious relief before climbing back to his feet. He obviously wasn't exempt from the boss's rule of fear.

"It might be kind however to remove the temptation," the boss continued. He gestured at Chris and must have hit some kind of remote in the shadows of his chair, because Chris felt the bracelet loosen on his wrist. The moment he could, he gladly pulled the damn thing over his hand and let it drop to the floor.

The boss tutted. "Untidy, Christopher. Hand the shackle to Anthony."

Chris stood his ground rebelliously for a moment, trying to look like he was weighing up the alternatives and coming up short. Then he made a show of reluctantly picking up the bracelet and turning to Bad Cop. The moment the guy put out his hand to take it, Chris exploded into action. He grabbed Bad Cop's arm, shoved the bracelet over his wrist and pushed him into Good Cop, using the momentum to turn himself towards the boss's chair. He had time to smile as he heard Bad Cop scream — Good Cop must have triggered the bracelet out of habit — intent on grabbing the best hostage available. Then he saw the stick the boss was pointing at him, and his whole world dissolved in pain.

It was agony. The bracelet had made him feel like his arm was on fire; whatever this was, it felt like his whole body was being torn apart, dipped in acid and put back together again. Every cell, every nerve was telling him that he was in pain like he'd never felt before. Distantly he could hear screaming. As the pain subsided and he felt the rawness of his throat, he realised it must have been him.

"What?" he managed, pushing himself upright from where he had collapsed.

"A small demonstration," the boss said, and the bastard sounded amused. He rose from his chair, and Chris bit back a gasp as he came clearly into view. The left side of the man's face and neck were a ruin of scar tissue, with scraggly tufts of blond hair utterly failing to make him look any less hideous. He looked like he'd been half burned alive, and judging from the gloved left hand and the care with which he was standing, the damage wasn't confined to his face.

"Your ability to think quickly will be an asset in time," the deformed man continued. "Unfortunately for now it seems you need to be reminded of your position. _Crucio._ "

The second burst of pain was no easier to deal with than the first. By the time Chris had himself under control enough to be aware of his surroundings, someone else had entered the room. A big man also in uniform, but looking distinctly worried. Chris pushed himself up for a better look, but couldn't stop a groan slipped out.

"Hush, Christopher." The stick flicked in his direction, and Chris abruptly found himself frozen in place. He could breathe and move his eyes, but not a single other muscle would obey him. What the fuck, he thought, fighting down rising panic. What had they done to him? What had they done to Sam that Good Cop thought was worse?

"What orders did I give for tonight, Thomas?" Scarface asked. He sounded faintly reproachful.

The new guy, Thomas presumably, trembled. "We're on lockdown, master," he said shakily. "No one is to leave, everyone not on duty is confined to barracks."

Scarface nodded gravely. "And did I list any exemptions?" he asked.

"No, master." Thomas shook his head vigorously. He looked terrified, but then Chris reckoned anyone knowing they were about to get the pain treatment would.

"So why," Scarface sighed, "did you decide to disobey my orders? Do you perhaps have some special privileges?"

"No, master," Thomas repeated. He was actually crying now. "I'm sorry, I—"

"You're sorry," Scarface sneered. "Sorry covers indulging your filthy habit for tobacco. The pride that lets you believe you can ignore inconvenient orders? That will require a little more than words."

"Please, master," the big guy sobbed, "I'm loyal."

"You gave me your binding oath, Thomas. That is why I am content to have you retrained. On a future occasion I will not be so lenient. Now, what do you say?"

Thomas swallowed. "Thank you, master," he said, looking anything but relieved. Then to Chris's surprise he took off his clothing, folded it neatly and knelt on the carpet every bit as naked as Chris was.

Scarface moved out of Chris's line of sight. Creaking noises told Chris that he had retaken his seat. "What are you?" he demanded. It had the sound of a ritual question.

"Nothing, master," Thomas answered clearly and distinctly, eyes firmly on the carpet.

"What do you possess?"

"Nothing, master."

"What do you do?"

"Whatever anyone tells me to, master."

"What do you say?"

"Whatever anyone tells me to, master."

The chair creaked again. Chris could just imagine the hideous bastard sitting back and grinning. "You see, Thomas," and yes, there was amusement in that voice, "you do know the rules. You simply have to learn to live them. Now run along to the barracks and inform the men that I expect them to discipline you."

Thomas rose to his feet with a quiet "Yes, master," and hurried from the room. A few moments later the pile of his boots and clothing rose a foot in the air and disappeared in a small puff of flame. What the fuck, Chris thought again. He could just about imagine someone putting a chip in him while he was out to do the pain and muscle freeze thing, even if he couldn't feel the surgery site — which, pain control, they could obviously hide from him. The magic trick was a different matter. There had been no wires, mirrors, concealed drones or anything else Chris could see, and he was only a few feet away. What the hell was going on?

"When both of you agree that he has learned his lesson, I shall reconsider his status," Scarface said firmly. Good Cop and Bad Cop drew themselves up sharply. "I expect accurate assessments from you both. And Maurice?"

"Yes, master?" Good Cop said. Then he collapsed screaming to the floor.

Scarface waited until Good Cop picked himself back up. "Do not attempt to conceal such idiocy from me again," he said in a low, vicious voice. "Your loyalty to the men is admirable only so far."

"I understand, master," Good Cop said. Weirdly he sounded more embarrassed than anything, as if he'd just had a well-deserved dressing down rather than a brief burst of torture. More interesting was the brief smug sneer Bad Cop shot him, and the black look he got back. There was a rivalry there Chris could exploit, if he could figure out how.

"Now, where was I?" Scarface said much more pleasantly. "Ah, yes," and suddenly Chris could move again. He quickly turned and drew himself into a crouch, glaring at the smug bastard.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

Scarface smiled thinly, his face once again mostly hidden in the shadows. "I am your master," he said smoothly, "and you are a rude young man who need to be taught how to behave. For now you are nothing, but I have every confidence that you will learn quickly. It would be most unfortunately for your 'partner' if you prove to be slow."

There had been an odd emphasis on the word 'partner', but Chris was too angry to care. "What have you done to Sam?" he demanded. "Where is—" His voice abruptly stopped working. The boss had moved his stick — at this point Chris was hard put not to think of it as a magic wand — in a complicated little pattern, and Chris had literally lost his voice. It had to be some sort of control device; getting it out of the man's grip was clearly a priority.

"As I said, rude," Scarface said. Chris glared at him, which just earned him a chuckle. "I might be prepared to overlook your earlier attempt at disobedience, but you caused Anthony some discomfort. I believe you owe him an apology."

Chris was fully prepared to use sign language — well, gestures — to indicate exactly what Anthony could do with his apology. He didn't get the chance; the boss pointed the stick straight at him and shouted, _"Imperio!"_

Braced for more pain, Chris almost fell over when instead it felt like he was being wrapped in layer after layer of soft cotton wool. It was a wonderful sensation, and he luxuriated in it until a brilliant idea came to him. He turned, crawled over to where Bad Cop was standing, and knelt before him. Then, licking his lips, he reached up and pulled down the man's zipper.

This was going to be amazing.


	15. Chapter 15

"He's using some kind of loyalty oath," Alec said pensively. They were waiting out another guard patrol, this time protected by privacy charms so they could still discuss the situation. "A lot of the older ones work perfectly well on Muggles but interact badly with a magical core. They wouldn't work on Potter, and he wouldn't have known better even Before."

"Hey," Adam objected, on principle rather than because Alec was actually wrong. "Anyway, I thought no one used those things any more because they were unpredictable or something."

"The oaths are entirely predictable," Alec said pedantically. "Even the warping effect of the enchantments on Muggles follows fairly predictable lines. Where did you think House Elves came from?"

Adam gave him a sceptical look. He knew that long term exposure to magic could do funny things to Muggles and mundane animals — or even devices like the old Ford Anglia for that matter — but what Alec was suggesting was a bit extreme. "Well," he said, "when a Mummy House Elf and a Daddy House Elf love each other very much...."

Alec rolled his eyes. "A year ago you'd have believed me," he grumbled.

"A year ago I didn't know what a wind-up merchant you were," Adam shot back. "Come on, the corridor's clear."

A few minutes later they found a side corridor with three doors on each side, one of them wide open. There were panels beside the doors that Adam couldn't see clearly. Beside him, Alec went still. "Locks on the outside," he whispered.

Cells, Adam translated. Their best shot at finding their parents, but also one of the places likely to have the best security. Except apparently not; diagnostic spells didn't show up any wards, and aside from the camera they had already dealt with and the locks on the doors there didn't seem to be anything mundane to stop them either. No pressure plates, no IR sensors, not even an old-fashioned light beam. It made sense that a Death Eater wouldn't put any stock in electronic alarms, but it still worried Adam. This wasn't a place that should have held Sam or his dad for long.

Adam ghosted up to the open door and cautiously looked inside. It was bare even for a cell, with just a hard shelf to sit or lie on and just enough room to pace. The panel proved to be a video feed of the cell from a wide angle camera that had to be just above the door. 'Empty,' he signalled to Alec, who nodded and started down the other side of the corridor.

Sam was in the third cell Adam looked at. He was lying on his back on the shelf, stark naked. His stillness bothered Adam; he didn't look stiff enough to be in a full body bind, but other than the gentle rise and fall of his chest he wasn't moving at all.

When Alec arrived, he took one look at the video feed and had the lock open in under three seconds, barely enough time for Adam to jinx the camera into not noticing them. The moment he had the door open and saw Sam lying there with his own eyes, Alec hissed "Dad! It's us."

Sam didn't even twitch.

"The camera's looped," Adam said in a low voice, in case Sam thought they had missed it. His sense of foreboding grew as Sam stayed exactly where he was.

"Dad?" Alec stepped inside, fully focused on Sam. Adam followed after casting a quick ward to warn them of anyone approaching the corridor.

Sam still didn't react as Alec walked up to him. "Dad!" he said urgently. "Come on, we haven't got time—" He broke off, pulling back the hand that had reached out.

There was something off about Sam's skin. It was glistening. "Is that oil?" Adam asked. Sam had mentioned something about oil in the photoshoot. If they had mixed some kind of hypnotic potion into it, that could explain the odd behaviour last night.

Alec stiffened in anger and took a careful step back. "Stand up," he ordered. Sam promptly climbed down from the shelf and stood up, staring straight ahead with a completely neutral expression. Adam looked at his friend's face and kept his mouth shut. "We need Potter's lab," Alec practically snarled.

"You recognise the potion?" Adam asked cautiously.

Alec nodded sharply. "Being dosed with it makes you suggestible. The more you get on you, the more it saps your will. Full-body coverage... He'll do only what anyone tells him to do until it wears off, and that will take forever unless I do something about it. Dad, follow me."

Adam sighed quietly as Alec stormed out, followed dutifully by Sam. He hurried after, casting quick disillusionment charms over all three of them. Alec didn't seem to be in the mood for stealth any more.

Fortunately they didn't meet anyone on the way back to where they'd left Harry. Alec strode into the room, shoved Harry aside and set to work at the potion bench. Harry of course curled up where he had fallen and started sobbing out apologies. He looked so surprised when Adam helped him to his feet, Adam had to grit his teeth and force a smile.

"He's not angry with you," he explained gently. "It's just..." He took a deep breath. This was going to break Harry's view of the world, at least if he still thought of Draco as the ultimate snob. Given Harry's current state, that was probably no bad thing.

"We've been living with Muggles," he said skipping the whole amnesia thing for now. "Sam here has been Draco's father in effect for the last year. They're very close."

Harry looked at Sam closely for a moment and shuddered. "Ubshebti oil," he whispered.

"Saps the will, I know."

"If you use it too long, the body start producing it by itself," Harry whispered. He shuddered again. "Daddy made me harvest it. Mo cried."

A chill went through Adam. "How long is too long?" he asked. "I mean, are we talking hours or days?"

"Days," Harry said, and Adam started breathing again. At least Sam wouldn't have that problem.

"Potter," Alec said sharply before Adam could ask any more question, "where's the lemon oil?" He already had a cauldron heating and had almost finished cutting up some roots.

"I'm sorry," Harry practically squeaked, and hurried over to the bench. Adam winced as Harry looked around wildly; if Alec wasn't in such a state himself, Adam would have had a quiet word about appropriate tones of voice.

"Now, Potter," Alec snapped, sounding so exactly like Snape that even Adam jumped. Harry squeaked again and a small flask flew into his hand. He passed it to Alec, then looked utterly horrified.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he babbled frantically. "Please don't tell Daddy, it'll never happen again, I promise." Alec shot Adam a look as Harry continued to beg, one that said 'You deal with him, I'm busy.'

"It's alright," Adam said soothingly, putting an arm around Harry's shoulder to manoeuvre him away from the bench. He did his best to ignore Harry's flinch. "We're not upset with you. Like I said, Al— Draco is just worried about his dad."

"But I'm not allowed to do magic," Harry wailed. "It makes me bad."

"It what?"

He must have sounded as baffled as he felt, because Harry actually looked startled at Adam's exclamation. "When I do magic, when I'm bad, people die," he explained. That was exactly the sort of guilt trip Harry would swallow whole, Adam thought. He had felt responsible for every death in the fight against Voldemort, he'd said as much often enough. Getting him to associate magic with those deaths would have been easy enough.

"You know what I saw, Harry?" Adam said evenly. "I saw you cast a wandless spell. That takes a lot of power. And you did it perfectly, without thinking, which takes a lot of skill. You're good, Harry. Very good."

"But it makes me bad. People—"

"People died, I know. You didn't kill them, Harry. In fact all the magic you did meant fewer people died. You couldn't save everyone, but you did stop Voldemort from killing any more."

Harry's eyes went wide. "You said his name," he said with a mixture of awe and fear. "Even Daddy won't say his name."

Adam shrugged. "It's just a name," he said. "You taught me that a long time ago." It didn't hurt that CI5's lessons had reinforced the idea that you don't give an opponent that kind of psychological advantage.

"But Daddy said—"

Harry was interrupted by a loud banging of stirrer against cauldron. "It needs to simmer for five minutes," Alec announced, glancing at his watch. Adam checked the time too; a second pair of eyes never hurt.

"Now," Alec said, marching over to plant himself in front of Harry, "you remember what we were like a school?"

Harry nodded, his eyes dropping firmly to his feet. He drew breath, but Alec didn't let him talk.

"I don't want to hear it," he said. "You were right, I was wrong. That's painfully obvious now, and I don't want to hear any more argument about it."

Harry looked at him wide-eyed for a long moment. "You haven't brought a surprise for Daddy, have you?" he said fearfully.

"Oh, we're a surprise all right," Alec said darkly.

"Look, this Daddy of yours spends all his time telling you that you're a worthless, useless freak," Adam said, deliberately picking words Harry would associate with his appalling aunt and uncle. "He's wrong. You, Harry Potter, are a hero. You defeated Voldemort twice and saved a lot of lives doing it."

"As I said," Alec chipped in, "you were right."

"But Daddy says..." Harry trailed off at Alec's sceptical look.

"He hurts you, doesn't he?" Adam pressed. "I'll bet he tells other people to hurt you too."

"It's just to make me better," Harry said weakly. "He just wants me to love him and prove I'm loyal."

"Has he earned your loyalty?" Alec asked. He deflated all of a sudden, his shoulders dropping. "Potter— Harry, I used to think that my father was exactly how a father ought to be. He was strong and certain, and he did everything to make me strong and certain too. Then Sam Curtis became my father, and in one year he has shown me more love, support and understanding than Lucius Malfoy ever did. He's an amazing man, and he worries constantly that he's not good enough to be my father. That's why he has more than earned my loyalty."

Harry's eyes were round with wonder as he started Alec. "Really?" he said, he voice hushed. "You really want him to be your daddy?"

"Really," Alec confirmed. "I chose him when I didn't know what I was choosing. Now I do know, I still choose him, and I'll choose him every time."

"The question is," Adam said gently, "is 'Daddy' the one you want to please?"

"No." The answer was instant, laden with guilt, and almost inaudible. Alec didn't hesitate, he stepped in and swept Harry up in a hug. Harry went still, making a muffled questioning noise.

"It's a hug," Alec said redundantly. "Something else Dad taught me was how much I needed them. I don't think you've had enough either."

"Reckon you're right there," Adam said, and added himself to the hug. "We're here for you, Harry. We'll keep you safe, it's OK. Whatever you need."

Harry looked panicked for a moment before he cracked and burst into tears.

* * *

It began to bother Sam that he was rubbing a lemon-scented lotion all over himself. He paused, looked at the stuff and tried to remember why he had started in the first place.

"Wha?" he managed to say, and that felt odd too, like his tongue wasn't quite under control.

"Keep going, Dad." That was Alec, and he sounded worried so Sam started applying the lotion again. "It's the antidote to what you were dosed with. You have to work it into all your exposed skin."

That made sense, so Sam started making sure he covered every inch of his body. He had finished his right leg and was just starting on the left when it occurred to him to look at the room he was in. And wonder why he was in it, and a whole host of other things that really should have been worrying him for a while now. "What happened?" he asked, pleased that his speech was a lot more under control now.

Alec sighed. "What do you remember?" he asked.

Sam concentrated, trying to get some clarity from his fuzzy memories. "I remember the four of us watching a film, and going to help with the coffee, and... And then for some reason it was vital that we went to that newsagents. I don't really remember anything after we got out of the car."

"Post-hypnotic suggestion," Alec said grimly. "We thought it had to be something like that. You were hit with a skin-absorbed drug, probably in whatever you were given for the photoshoot. It made you very suggestible. They must have found out you were CI5 and planted the suggestion about the newsagents to throw everyone off the scent. They hit you with a much bigger dose when they took you. It had completely drained your willpower; you did what anyone told you to do and nothing more."

"And this is the antidote?" Sam stated more than asked. It was certainly doing something; he could feel his thinking getting clearer by the minute, and he was a lot more conscious of his surroundings. That only lead to another host of questions though. The room clearly wasn't part of CI5 HQ, for example. It looked like a mad scientist's lab, modern glasswork sat incongruously beside medieval ironmongery. Adam was sitting some distance away talking to a dark-haired boy Sam didn't recognise. The boy had clearly been crying, and kept plucking at his T-shirt like he couldn't quite believe it was there.

There were no other agents in the room, that was what worried Sam the most. If he had come to mid-rescue, there ought to have been at least one agent here to guard the boys. That meant that Alec and Adam were trying to rescue him on their own. The fact that they had got this far wasn't going to stop him from reaming them out for doing something so dangerously stupid.

Sam finished working the lotion into his foot and stood to confront Alec. Which was the point it finally dawned on him that he was standing in front of his son stark bollock naked. "Clothes," he ordered, trying to cover his groin with his hands.

"Oh! Of course, sorry." Alec blushed, and to Sam's surprise pulled out his stick and waved it around.

A pile of clothes appeared out of thin air at Sam's feet. "What the hell?" he demanded, stepping back hurriedly. Alec's face closed up.

"Ah, yeah," Adam called over. "You should probably have lead with that news."

"What news?" Could he be hallucinating, Sam wondered.

Alec sighed and looked down. "This place shook loose our memories," he said, "or rather he did." He pointed at the boy, who would have slid to his knees if Adam hadn't stopped him. "This is Harry Potter. He's been held prisoner here since you found us."

Sam nodded his acknowledgement at Harry. He had too many questions, so he prioritised. "You remember who you are? And what happened?" From Alec's reactions, it wasn't good.

Alec gave a bitter little laugh. "What you found last year was the last battle of a secret war. We were together because we were trying to kill each other." He looked up and swallowed. "I was on the wrong side."

Sam didn't hesitate. His son needed comfort, so he swept him up into a hug. Simple as that. "Even if I didn't know already," he murmured, "the fact you can say that would tell me you know better now. I meant it when I said I was here for you no matter what." He wanted more details, like what Alec and Adam's real names were, but reassuring Alec that he still had a place with him was more important.

As Alec slowly relaxed, Sam looked over at Adam and Harry. Adam was smiling easily as he watched them. If they really had been trying to kill each other, evidently he had no hard feelings. The other boy — who now Sam was paying attention looked to be about the same age as Alec and Adam — looked on with wide eyes before leaning over to whisper something to Adam.

"Dad, clothes," Alec said after a moment.

Sam was so happy to hear the first word that he almost forgot the implication of the second. "Ah yes," he said, stepping back but carefully leaving a reassuring hand on Alec's shoulder. "The magically appearing clothing."

Adam snickered and Alec managed a small smile. "The magically appearing clothing appeared by magic," he said. "We're wizards." Sam opened his mouth to object, but Alec brandished his stick — wand? — and suddenly a spark of light was dancing around his head.

"Wizards," Sam said slowly. And Alec had mentioned a secret wizard war. Again there were too many questions, but this time it was Agent Curtis who prioritised. "I'm going to want to know all about that later," he said, "but right now I need a sitrep. Specifically, why are you here rather than CI5?"

By the time he was dressed, Sam was up to speed on how CI5 had been fooled by force-grown clones — something Sam found disturbing from a security point of view even if they were mindless — and spells that made the secret entrance unnoticeable, plus the charming detail that all of the minions here were at best unwilling. No shooting the help then, Sam thought as Alec took off his shoulder holster and passed it over. Not that that would stop them shooting back however little they might want to, something Sam lost no time pointing out to the kids.

"I might have something to even that up," Adam said. "My... other dad showed me a spell that stops guns from firing. I could never get it right, but now I know how guns actually work it's pretty obvious what I was getting wrong."

"Try it," Sam ordered. Once Adam had finished waving his wand and chanting in bad Latin, Sam drew his gun, aimed at the table in the corner and pulled the trigger. There was a click, but nothing else happened.

Adam nodded to himself. "It stops the percussion cap firing," he said.

Sam ejected the bullet rather than risk a misfire, and reholstered his weapon. "How long do we have before they notice I'm gone?" he asked.

"We looped the video on the cells," Adam told him. "They won't be able to tell until they actually go inside for you, but that could happen any time."

"OK. Now where are they holding Chris?"

"He'd been taken from the cells," Alec reported unhappily. "He's probably being tortured."

"He won't give up anything easily," Sam observed.

"If whoever's in charge wanted information, they'd have just ripped it out of your minds," Adam said. "This will be about fun, and trying to break Dad like he's broken everyone else." He looked grim.

Sam didn't like the sound of that. They were trained to resist interrogation, but wizards probably had means of hurting people that would make the worst sadists they had faced green with envy. "Chris is tough," he said, as must to reassure himself as Adam. "We still have to find out where he is."

"The study." Everyone turned and looked at Harry, who promptly tried to shrink away from them. Sam gave him an encouraging look, not wanting to prompt. "Daddy likes the study," Harry continued timidly. "He says it shows how important and powerful he is. He always calls me to the study when I've been bad."

"When he wants to torture you," Alec translated disgustedly. Harry shook nervously but didn't actually deny it. Sam silently promised that whoever this psychopath was, he'd suffer for what he'd done to this kid.

"He's not really your father, is he?" Sam wasn't really surprised when Harry looked down and shook his head. What did surprise him was that both Adam and Alec reached out to take Harry's hands. "Do you think perhaps you shouldn't call him that anymore?" He continued gently. "If he tortures you, and I'm sure does all sorts of other things, that's not what parents should do. Maybe you shouldn't call him something he really isn't."

Harry stared at him like he didn't believe what he was hearing. Then he looked at Alec and Adam, who both smiled encouragingly, before looking back at Sam and visibly crewing up his courage. "Will you be my Daddy?" he asked.

Sam clamped down hard on his impulse to panic. He wasn't the best choice of parent for someone as unstable as Harry, but that wasn't what Harry would hear if he refused. "For someone that Alec and Adam think so highly of, I'd be honoured," he said with a genuine a smile as he could manage. "You might want to wait a bit, though. Choosing your parents is a big deal, and you might find someone even better."

Harry shook his head stubbornly. "If you're my Daddy, then I can't call him Daddy."

It made a cracked kind of sense, and arguing would only further hurt this abused kid. "All right, I give in," he said. "I'll be your Dad for now." The huge smile Harry produced and the indulgent grin Alec tried to hide told Sam that 'for now' was going to be a lot longer than tonight, no matter how bad an idea it was.

"So what do you call the bastard Death Eater in charge then?" Adam asked, nudging Harry playfully.

Harry grinned back and said a name. Alec froze. Adam went white.


	16. Chapter 16

Chris zipped up Bad Cop's trousers, shuffled backwards and knelt on his heels contentedly. Then the cotton-wool haze lifted and he gagged. What the fuck was going on? He'd given a guy he didn't like an expert blow-job, and he'd wanted to do it. If they could make him do that, they could make him do anything, like plant a bomb in CI5 or assassinate the President.

A movement from the chair by the fire caught his attention. As he watched, Scarface closed a small book and placed it neatly on the side table. "A satisfactory apology, Anthony?" he asked.

Bad Cop smirked at Chris. "I wouldn't say no to a repeat performance," he said. Chris scowled at him. He noticed that Good Cop was having to work to keep his expression neutral; more evidence of bad blood between the two of them.

Scarface smiled thinly and turned to Chris. "You are doubtless considering all the things that I could compel you to do," he said pleasantly. "In truth, you way well perform some of those activities in due time, but not because I have laid that curse upon you. No, you will act through your own conscious choice, out of loyalty to me."

"Dream on," Chris growled. Then he screamed as the pain ripped through him.

"Defiance has a certain charm, but it wears thin," Scarface noted.

Chris had every intention of defying the man as often as he could, but his brain was still addled from the torture. Lacking any better idea, he fell back on old habits. "Keel, Christopher, Senior Field Agent 4-5," he ground out.

Scarface looked baffled by this. Good Cop explained; "Name, rank and serial number. The only information a captured soldier is supposed to give his captors."

"Ah," Scarface said in understanding. "It omits so much, don't you think?" He proceeded to list three of Chris's secure passwords, the code phrase indicating he was under duress, and the passcode to the armoury. "All entirely useless now, of course," he said while Chris was still reeling from the implications. "Your colleagues will have changed everything now that they believe you to be dead."

Chris snorted in disbelief. CI5 was not known for giving up on agents.

"They have bodies," Bad Cop said with malicious glee. "Identical down to the scars. We dressed them in your clothes and chucked them in the fire. No one will know the difference." Chris tried to look appropriately worried; that might slow CI5 down, but once the DNA tests came back...

"Thank you, Anthony," Scarface said icily. Bad Cop blanked his face and stood straighter. Shouldn't have gloated out of turn, Chris thought. He smirked at Bad Cop, rapidly thinking through ways to get the man to do something stupid.

"This CI5 of yours appears to pride itself on its intelligence," Scarface continued. "For all that, they cannot conceive of the power arrayed against them. They have a body I grew from a single one of your hairs, and every test they perform will only convince them further that it is you. Lacking magic, even your nearest and dearest could not tell."

So he shouldn't expect outside help, Chris translated. "You expect me to believe that?" he said. People had a long habit of underestimating CI5, and it wouldn't be the first time he had been captured and on his own resources anyway.

The flare of pain was entirely predictable. That didn't make it any less incapacitating, unfortunately.

"You appear to be under the misapprehension that your opinion matters," Scarface said while Chris was still gasping for breath. "As of now, you are nothing. You provide me the entertainment of breaking your will, but nothing more. Maurice, what is the record for refusing to take the oath?"

"Ten days, master." Good Cop didn't meet Scarface's eyes, Chris noted.

"Perhaps you should explain to Christopher why he shouldn't attempt to beat your record?"

Good Cop was the champion at holding out against Scarface? Chris looked more closely as the man crouched in front of him, and could see traces of a military bearing. The way he was balanced on the balls of his feet, for instance; if Chris lunged at him now, he'd probably be slapped down even before Scarface's magic pain stick got involved.

"Your partner," Good Cop began. He held up a hand as Chris drew breath. "No talking. Don't make this harder than it has to be.

"You remember rubbing that oil on your partner?" Chris frowned for a moment before remembering that weird part of his nonsensical memories. That had been real? Then he remembered just where he'd been touching Sam and felt his cheeks heat up.

Bad Cop snorted, and Good Cop shot him a filthy look. "Yeah, thought so," he said, turning back to Chris. "The amount you got on your hands made you compliant and easy to lead around for a few hours. The full-body treatment your partner got? He's basically a zombie, and he'll stay that way for at least another day. Tomorrow morning we'll tell him to rub another load on, and he'll do it because he'll still be a zombie. And the next morning, and the morning after that, and so on until you give in and join us.

"It doesn't sound so bad, does it, not even thinking enough to register what you're doing? It's not like he'll suffer. Trouble is, that oil can soak right into you. After a week or so, his body will start sweating the stuff. It'll be too late then, he'll be stuck as a zombie. He'll never be the person you knew again.

"But it doesn't stop there. The longer it goes on, the more he sweats the damn stuff, the further it will soak in. First his skin will go waxy and soft, then his muscles. He'll just lie there because he isn't strong enough to move any more. It will hurt like hell; he won't scream, not unless someone tells him to, but he'll whine all the time. You'll sit with him every minute you're allowed to, listening to that damn noise and watching the flesh drop off his bones, until some day he just stops. And you'll always hate yourself for letting it happen."

Good Cop wasn't looking at Chris by the end of his speech. He seemed to be lost in memory, seeing someone who had died just the way he had described. Someone he knew. "Hey," Chris said softly, "you d—"

Good Cop slapped him hard across the face and stood. "I said no talking," he bit out harshly. "You need to get over yourself and your training, pledge your loyalty to our Master and mean it, because that's the only thing that will save your partner. Got it?"

Chris' instinct was to snap something back defiantly. He held his tongue, though, and nodded. He needed to be on Good Cop's good side if he was going to make use of his dislike of Bad Cop, and besides the man genuinely seemed to be trying to spare him the horror. Perversely, the horror story had given Chris hope; he had a few days in hand, and everything could change in a few days.

"You may have charge of Christopher's education," Scarface said approvingly. "For this purpose only, you will indulge your... baser desires." Those words were sneered, and Good Cop flushed and looked away. Chris did not get a good feeling about that.

"Behave well, Christopher, and I may choose to reward you." Scarface chuckled drily. "Your deepest, most secret desire is after all within your grasp."

"Huh?" Chris reckoned he could get away with that snort. What could he possibly want from a place like this?

The wand flicked out again, but this time all that happened was an itching sensation behind his eyeballs. "To your credit, you buried it deeply," Scarface said, sounding slightly distracted. "Ah, here we are."

An image of Sam drifted in front of Chris. He had that little grin Chris loved teasing out of him. He walked up and then suddenly he was kissing Chris. "What? What are you doing?"

"Merely reminding you of thoughts you have already had," Scarface said smoothly. "The idle daydreams of an unguarded mind." Chris was naked now, falling back onto a bed, and Sam was naked too and crawling on top of him. Chris imagined for a moment how good it would feel, grinding together like that, before he got a hold of himself. Sure he thought Sam was good-looking, but there was objective fact to back him up on that. Everyone was disconcerted the first time Sam turned his charm on them. It didn't mean he actually wanted anything like he was being shown now. He wasn't gay.

The scene skipped, and Sam was fucking him and Jesus Christ maybe he was gay because he wanted to see that look on Sam's face for real. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Sam touch him like this, and kiss him and fill him and... It didn't matter though. He might be gay, but Sam wasn't. Chris was sure of that. Sam wouldn't want any of this.

"Samuel will do exactly as he is told," Scarface murmured. Chris felt sick. Sam would fuck him because Sam was a zombie right now. No way in hell was Chris going to let that happen.

"Get out of my head," he growled.

Scarface merely chuckled. "Such pretty little fantasies you have," he said. A memory of last night surfaced, and Chris belatedly understood why he had been so very aware of exactly how close Sam had been. "How domestic, just the two of you and your—"

Scarface leaned forward suddenly, staring at him intently. Chris forced himself to jump mental tracks. Something about the image of Adam and Alec sat engrossed in the movie had caught Scarface's attention, so Chris thought of anything and everything else. The pain of getting shot or stabbed or moving his broken leg; the way his SEAL training sergeant made 'Sir' sound like 'You Screw-Up'; the wedding reception, and the sight of Teresa's blood; anything at all that did not include the boys.

"Impossible," Scarface muttered. Chris felt the pressure behind his eyeballs increase, and doubled his efforts to confuse things. "Show me," Scarface demanded. "You will show me, Christopher, or—"

The door blew off its hinges. In the moment of shock that followed, Alec stalked into the room.

"Hello, father," he spat.

* * *

Adam was worried about Alec. It was fair to say that he was not taking the news that Lucius Malfoy was behind the kidnapping well. In retrospect, Adam shouldn't have believed Alec when he'd said he was OK, should have been suspicious when Alec didn't argue with Sam's quickly outlined plan, and should have put his foot down when Alec had volunteered to take point to shield Adam while he disabled the guns.

What Alec actually did was charge in and focus his whole attention on blowing the living daylights out of his biological father. Adam was going to give him hell for behaving just like Harry if they survived this. It was a distraction for sure, but shielding it was not. Adam had got his spell off before anyone got shot, but only because his dad had lunged at the only guard to draw a gun and knocked him down. The other guard had drawn a radio instead, and had managed to get a message off before Sam engaged him. That meant there would be reinforcements, which meant Adam's job was to stop them getting in and reinforcing. Which would have been so much easier if Alec _hadn't blown the bloody door off._

He ducked as the table beside him exploded. "Bloody hell," he muttered and threw up a quick shielding charm. It would only last a minute or so, but at least it should stop anyone blowing the door apart again before he'd finished rebuilding it. Alec and Lucius were spending more time screaming at each other than spellcasting, but that didn't make their ricochets any less dangerous.

Harry whimpered. He had tucked himself away beside a heavy desk, curled tightly into a ball and making small, frightened noises. Much as he had hoped the fight would bring out the old, indomitable Harry Potter, Adam hadn't really expected anything else. Lucius had spent a long time breaking him, after all.

Adam turned back to the fight in time to see Alec rather impressively shatter the bookshelf behind Lucius. Lucius' response would have taken down the anti-gun ward if Adam hadn't hastily countered it, but at least that let Alec get back on the offensive. His dad and Sam weren't doing so well; Dad was clearly suffering the after-effects of torture, while Sam was up against someone who seemed to know how to fight. They were holding their own, but that was all.

Just as he tossed a banishing charm at his dad's opponent's trousers — it wouldn't affect Dad if he missed — there was a crash against the door. Adam swore at the crack that appeared in the wood panel and threw some more repair-work at it. He was vaguely aware of his dad taking down his debagged opponent and the air between Alec and Lucius growing thick with magic, but keeping the door intact was taking up way too much of his attention. Lucius must have thrown some wood-rotting spell his way, because the damn thing kept breaking every time the guards outside hit it.

"Ron!"

Adam dived sideways on sheer instinct, even before he registered that it was Harry who shouted. Before he had rolled back to this feet, the door exploded into flinders. Given the damage the spelled inflicted on the minions on the far side, Adam reckoned he would have been very dead if he'd still been in the way.

A quick glance showed him that Alec had been disarmed. Rather than try to retrieve his wand, Alec charged forward. Adam did his best to give him covering fire, trusting that one of the adults would be able to hold the doorway. Lucius' shields cracked but didn't go down, and Adam watched helplessly as Lucius loosed a spell directly at Alec. Alec dropped into a slide to get under it, and he almost succeeded.

The shield went down under Adam's onslaught, but Lucius already had Alec floating at wand-point, a living shield that severely limited Adam's options. "Stop!" Lucius boomed. "Surrender yourselves now and I will be a merciful—"

"No!" Harry screamed.

Three long, jagged shards of wood leapt up off the ground, swerved around Alec and nailed Lucius to the wall. "Boy?" he croaked out before slumping forward, blood dying his green robes crimson.

Harry stood there, arms still raised. "You're not my Daddy," he whimpered into the sudden silence.


	17. Chapter 17

"Stand down. Everybody stand down."

Good Cop sounded weary more than anything as he backed away from Chris. Chris didn't get it. He'd seen the shock and elation when Scarface had been pinned up like a butterfly, but seconds later the guy seemed to have crashed again. Not that Chris was in great shape himself now that the adrenalin was wearing off, but the guy could at least look happier now he wasn't a slave.

Later, Chris thought. There were things that had to be done right now. He picked up Bad Cop's pistol and pointed it at Good Cop. "Gun," he said. Good Cop drew his gun carefully with just thumb and forefinger, placed it on the ground and kicked it over. "Good. You stay there." Good Cop nodded and shrank into himself a bit more.

Chris turned and squatted beside Bad Cop. He was still moaning on the ground with a dislocated shoulder, a broken nose and a severely bruised groin. Chris still reckoned he'd let him off lightly. "You're going to lie here and be quiet," he said in a low, dangerous voice, "or I'm going to set my partner on you. He's not as nice as I am. I don't think the kids are in a forgiving mood either."

Bad Cop looked past him and somehow managed to go whiter. He nodded vigorously, muffling a sound of pain as he jogged his shoulder.

Chris smiled nastily, stood and turned in the direction Bad Cop was looking. He didn't see anything scary, just Adam directing stragglers into the room and disarming them. Granted Adam looked grim and was waving his wand menacingly... Oh yeah. Shit. The kids were magic.

He flinched. Then he got mad. He was not going to be scared of his son. He wasn't going to be less than one hundred percent supportive of Adam now that he clearly knew more about himself, and fuck the magic. Chris hadn't hesitated to get back into a cockpit after his last crash, and he wasn't going to hesitate now. After all, if Adam and Alec had magic, there had to be more to it than torture rays and mind control.

Chris strode over and clapped a hand on Adam's shoulder. "I'm proud of you," he said firmly. "You're grounded til you're thirty, but I'm proud of you."

Adam grinned at him, the cheeky bastard. "All part of the service," he said. "Here, you need these." A quick wave of Adam's wand and Chris was holding a pile of clothes.

"Who's the kid?" he asked as he pulled on a pair of boxers. The black-haired boy seemed to have fallen apart again after bringing the fight to a halt, and both Alec and Sam were trying to comfort him.

"Harry." Adam's grin softened. "We met on the train to school at the start of our first year, and never looked back. Lucius has been torturing him for as long as you've been looking after us." He sighed unhappily.

Another reason to wish Scarface had died slower, Chris thought. "I'm going to want to hear all about it later," he said, "but right now we need to keep on top of this."

Adam nodded. "Lucius' death will have ended whatever loyalty oath he used, but that doesn't mean his minions are all going to suddenly be sweetness and light."

Chris glared at Bad Cop, then looked more consideringly at Good Cop. He had been holding back when he took on Sam, somehow justifying not doing him any serious injury. And even Scarface thought Good Cop stretched things to protect the other goons.

"We need more manpower," he said.

Adam pulled out his phone. "There's no signal here," he said, "but I could apparate back to the secret entrance and call from there."

"Apparate?"

"Uh, teleport. More or less."

"Okay," Chris said slowly. The security implications of that little comment were staggering, but not what he needed to be thinking about right now. "You do that, I'll work with what's here. With any luck they'll be too used to following Scarface's orders to put up a fight."

"Scarface," Adam chuckled as Chris pulled on this trainers. "Please tell me you didn't call him that out loud. He'd have flipped big time. Lucius Malfoy was one of the most vain people I ever met."

"I can imagine," Chris said drily. He'd probably better start using the dead man's name in his head now, otherwise 'Scarface' would make its way into his official report. Malone would not be amused.

"Be careful, Dad," Adam said. Chris could tell he was going for casual, and wasn't fooled for a moment.

"Planning on it," he said, and gave his son a quick hug. "You be careful too."

"Always am," Adam said roughly. "Oh, and keep an eye on Alec. He says he's OK, but he's really not."

Chris looked over to where Alec was getting his own hug. He had heard enough of the ranting to understand that Scarface — dammit, Malfoy — was Alec's biological father, and that had to have hurt. "Sam's got it in hand," he said, "but I'll keep a lookout too. Now go get backup and get your ass back here as quick as you can."

Adam gave him a sloppy salute, turned on his heel and vanished with a soft pop. Chris took a moment to appreciate what his son could do. It wasn't nearly so scary when he thought of it that way. Then he turned to the gaggle of men staring apprehensively at where Adam wasn't.

"Hey, you!" he said to Good Cop, putting a bit of drill sergeant into his voice. "You're military, right?"

Good Cop pulled himself to attention. "Cpl Mo Bowen, Army sir," he snapped, then deflated. "Ex-army."

"No such thing," Chris told him cheerily. "I'm putting you in charge here. We need to get everyone together before someone tries something stupid. I'm betting more than a few people will need to see the new wall hanging."

Bowen glanced briefly at Scarface's body. "Sir," he acknowledged, and reached for his radio. "All personnel, all personnel report to the study immediately. I repeat, all personnel to the study, no exceptions." He paused for a moment before adding, "Tommy, put some clothes on first."

"Good catch," Chris said. "Anyone else need rescuing?"

"Only the kid, sir," Bowen said, nodding towards Harry, Alec and Sam.

"Yeah, I think he got the memo." Chris stepped closer and lowered his voice. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Sir?"

"Lucius Malfoy broke everyone here. You've looked out for the rest, but he broke you too. Can you hold on for them until we get support?"

Bowen straightened up again. "Yes sir," he said firmly. "I won't let you down."

He wouldn't let his men down, Chris was confident of that. Cpl Bowen would be fine until he didn't have anyone else to look after.

Chris turned to head over to Sam and the boys, but a soft "Sir?" stopped him. He looked quizzically at Bowen.

"You should tell him," Bowen said. Chris must have looked confused — there were a lot of things he and Sam needed to brief each other about — because Bowen ploughed on uncomfortably. "What th— What Malfoy saw in your head. You should tell him, sir."

There was not enough 'No' in the universe. "Now is not the time," Chris managed to say fairly evenly.

"It isn't, sir," Bowen agreed, "but you never know which chance will be your last." He looked so empty for a moment, Chris almost hugged the guy.

That wouldn't do either of them any good, though. "I'll keep that in mind," he said instead. "For now, we have work to do."

Bowen snapped off a salute and started moving among the men. Chris walked slowly over towards Sam, his thoughts whirling. He wasn't completely sold on the idea that he really had a crush on Sam, that it wasn't something Malfoy had planted in his head. The one thing he was sure of was that he wasn't telling Sam in this lifetime.

* * *

Adam stepped out of the locker and hit speed dial almost at the same moment. It took Spencer barely a ring to pick up. "Where the hell are you?"

"And a good evening to you too," Adam couldn't stop himself from saying. He had just been fighting for his life, he didn't need Spencer's attitude. "I'm in the men's locker room at Lantern Media."

"Stay there," Spencer interrupted. "Backup's on her way."

"Great," Adam said with what he thought was admirable restraint. "Now if I could finish my report?"

"Go ahead," Spencer sighed.

"We've located and retrieved 3-7 and 4-5. They are very much alive, thank you," and you should damn well have believed us, Adam managed not to say. "The drug operation is busted, but we need manpower to handle the... slaves, I guess. Everyone in there was tortured into submission." It wasn't entirely accurate, but close enough for planning purposes.

"This isn't funny," Spencer said flatly.

"Damn it, I'm serious," Adam exploded. "Do not make me come over to Ops and have this out with you. I do not have the time, and I'm trying to guard the entrance."

There was a soft pop from over to his left. Adam swore and dived right. He was lit up beautifully by the light from the secret corridor, a sitting duck for whoever had just apparated in. His wand ripped from his hand as he went, but he was half expecting that. By the time he rolled into a crouch, his gun was out and pointed unwaveringly at the shadowy figure opposite.

"If you so much as twitch that wand, I will shoot," he shouted. Hopefully his phone would pick that up from wherever he had dropped it. "You wouldn't be the first Death Eater to die tonight." It was fifty percent bluff. The light wasn't good enough for him to see small wand movements, but he could hear incantations and at this range he wasn't going to miss.

"Death Eater?" came the outraged response. "You put that Muggle contraption down before I take it off you."

The voice was awfully familiar, and fitted what Adam could see of the body. "Perce?" he said uncertainly.

Percy Weasley stepped a little further into the light, wand levelled and holding Adam's wand in his off hand. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Adam stood slowly. "Hi," he said weakly. "Long time, no see." His gun stayed trained on Percy, though he did shift from centre of mass to shoulder. Ron Weasley wanted to rush over and hug his brother, but Adam Keel didn't dare. Too much was going on for him to just drop his guard, even for family.

Percy looked gobsmacked, then furious. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but looking like my dead brother doesn't bode well."

"It's me, Perce," Adam said quickly. "If you like, I could remind you what happened when you picked up the bottle the twins had been working on. You smelt like sour milk for a week." That had been a pretty spectacular event, and as far as he knew only known to a select few Weasleys.

"Ron?" Percy was back to gobsmacked.

"Yeah, it's me," Adam said. Then his voice hardened. "What are you doing here?"

Percy drew himself up. "That's classified," he said.

"Not good enough, Perce." Adam kept his voice even and business-like, the way he'd been taught. "You've shown up at a crime scene, and the only wizards who might know where this place is are Death Eaters or possibly Aurors. You aren't an Auror. I need to know you're not part of this."

"You can't believe—"

"It doesn't matter what I believe. I've had too many unexpected things happen already tonight, I can't risk just believing." It was hard to say that to his own brother, but it was true. Percy had been such a yes-man in the Ministry, Adam genuinely didn't know how far he could be trusted.

Percy looked at him, really looked, then nodded slightly. "My group detected some powerful magical activity, but we only just managed to get a trace through," he said. "I'm here to investigate."

It made some sense; leaving the secret locker door open could easily have put a hole in Lucius' wards. That didn't explain why Percy was the one here though. "'My group'?" Adam asked.

"Ministry Intelligence," Percy said promptly. "The Minister was... persuaded that he needed a group to ensure someone like Voldemort didn't catch them napping again." He smiled wryly. "I think he put me in charge as revenge for keeping Dumbledore informed."

Percy had been their spy in the Ministry? But he hadn't been on speaking terms with the family, and he'd been a junior official — No, prioritise, Adam thought to himself. "I don't suppose you've got any identification to prove that?" he asked.

Percy moved slowly, tucking Adam's wand into a pocket and fishing out an ID card. It looked official enough, not that Adam knew what Ministry intelligence IDs looked like for certain, and it didn't feel like it was glamoured to look like what he expected to see. Not that 'slightly psychic paper' was an idea the Wizarding World had come up with yet. It was good enough, Adam enough.

"OK," he said, and safetied and holstered his gun. "Sorry to be so suspicious, but it's been a hell of a day."

"Apparently so," Percy said. He noticeably did not hand Adam his wand back. Adam didn't worry about it, he'd heard the slight sound of the locker room door. "Ron, what are you doing here? You said something about Death Eaters?"

"Yeah. Welcome to the former lair of Lucius Malfoy."

Percy paled. "I'm going to need backup," he muttered.

"He's dead," Adam said airily. "He tried kidnapping the wrong people. We showed him the error of his ways."

Percy shook his head. "You disappear for a year, then take out the last of the big name Death Eaters. I shouldn't expect any less from you and Harry. I suppose it's too much to ask that you got Draco Malfoy too?"

Adam stamped on the flare of anger. Percy didn't know, and it was a perfectly reasonable assumption if you hadn't met the man Alec had become. "When I said we showed him, I meant me and A— Draco. He duelled with Lucius one-on-one and almost beat him without help. Right now he's down there keeping a lid on things. If you try doing anything to him, I will make you eat that wand. That's assuming our guardians don't get to you first. They won't be nearly so polite about it."

Percy eyed him warily. "That's not something I ever expected to hear you say," he said.

"I've had a year to get to know him and he's had a year to change," Adam said grumpily. He held out his hand. "Wand," he demanded.

"Why should I?"

"Because you're itching to cast a _revelatio,_ and I'm not about to let you cast anything if I can't defend myself. I'd be insulted that you won't take my word for it, but you never have believed me without checking."

It wasn't mean to be an accusation, but — oh, who was he kidding, it totally was. Even at school Percy had never believed Ron and the twins, and even if he'd been mostly right about the twins it still rankled with Adam. Judging from the tight-lipped expression Percy gave him as he handed Adam's wand over, Percy still thought he was in the right.

Prig, Adam thought, and put up a lightweight ward. He gave Percy a moment to cast his own spells and chew over the fact that there were no undue influences on him. Then he called out, "You can stand down now."

"I came alone," Percy said distractedly.

"I didn't." Adam smirked and Percy jumped as Backup melted out of the shadows. He took the opportunity to scoop up his phone, whisper a warning and switch it to speaker.

"You are in more trouble than you can imagine," Backup growled at Adam. He gave her his best attempt at Chris' innocent expression. "Who is this?" She gestured at Percy with her gun.

"Backup, meet Percy Weasley, my brother," Adam said easily. "And apparently MI13. Perce, this is Tina Backus, CI5."

Percy cautiously acknowledged Backup. "Does she know?" he asked in a blatant attempt at subtlety.

"About magic?" Percy winced. Adam grinned. "Not until just now," he said.

"Then there's still time—"

"Forget it, Perce," Adam interrupted before his idiot brother could talk himself into real trouble. "Even if somehow she didn't shoot you and I didn't stop you using a memory charm, CI5 is too good an organisation not to notice. Inconsistent reports and gaps in memories will just make them dig harder.

"But the Statute..." The time Percy stopped himself. Much too late, but an improvement of sorts.

"The Statute?" Backup prompted deceptively mildly.

"The Statute of Secrecy," Adam said. "The first rule of the magical community: don't talk about the magical community."

Percy made a strangled noise. Backup ignored him. "Fight Club?" she said. "Really?"

Adam shrugged. "It's not a bad analogy. There's an entire community of people born with the ability to use magic living in parallel with the rest of the world. In theory the Prime Minister is the only point of contact in the UK."

"Magic," Backup said sceptically.

"Yup." Adam would have demonstrated, but he didn't trust Percy not to try something stupid while he was spellcasting. Fortunately he had a convenient example. "Where's the light coming from?"

"What?" Backup was thrown by the question, which made sense when you considered the magic involved.

"We're standing in a beam of light," he explained. "It's coming from somewhere, but you can't see where."

Tina couldn't, that was obvious. It didn't stop her from following the line of their shadows up to the lookers, only to have her attention dragged away. Finally she took out her phone, sighted along the shows and snapped a picture. "That's impossible," she said after a moment's study.

"That's an aversion spell," Adam said. He was impressed. Backup would have broken the spell's hold on her in a few minutes anyway, the rate she was going, the trick with the phone camera just speeded things up.

"Ron!" Percy hissed.

Adam rolled his eyes. "The Statute was walking wounded from the moment Malfoy decided to kidnap Da— Chris and Sam. The cat's so far out of the bag now it's had kittens."

"Don't mix your metaphors," Percy complained absently, which was Percy all over.

"You get to be inter-agency liaison, you lucky thing," Adam told him. Percy looked quickly at Backup before refocusing on Adam. Adam had the sinking feeling he was about to make a stupendously idiotic move.

So did Backup, apparently. "Whatever you're thinking, forgot it," she said. "We'll have more agents on site in a few minutes."

"Two minutes to the front door," Spencer's voice came from Adam's phone, making Percy jump. Adam smirked. "Your brother might also like to know that I have three recordings of this conversation in secure archives already. Numbers four and five are waiting for couriers and Richards already has automated reminders set so we will listen to them."

Percy gaped at Adam's phone. "Technology, Perce," Adam said in response to the unasked question. "It's getting really good."


	18. Chapter 18

Harry Malone rubbed his eyes wearily. The day had started early, and had thrown new problems at him hourly. His two best agents were unexpectedly back from the dead, and the mystery surrounding the boys had been explained, but that just left him with a whole new set of security and political concerns. Not to mention twenty individuals in severe need of counselling who had somehow become his responsibility. It had been a small price to pay for refusing the minister's request to have CI5's knowledge of magic removed — something, as he had pointed out, that the Minister would have been asking for again on a weekly basis — but CI5's psychiatrists were going to be overstretched for the foreseeable future. Unsurprisingly his agents were unsympathetic.

Little wonder, then, that it had taken this long for him to find time to debrief young Adam Keel, or Ronald Bilius Weasley to use his real name. Something, Malone was beginning to realise, that young Mr Keel was not doing.

"Mr Curtis outlined Voldemort's activities during your school days," he said once Adam had confirmed the night's adventure. To be strictly accurate, Alec had confessed to being one of Voldemort's followers and had clearly expected to be kicked out of the building for his sins.

"Don't believe a thing he says about his part in it," Adam interrupted, rather confirming Malone's own impression. "He swallowed his family's prejudices whole, and by the time he was thinking for himself it was too late to get out. Not that we were any help," he added sadly.

A telling statement, Malone thought, but not his immediate priority. "I was going to ask your opinion on Harry Potter," he said pointedly. "History and current state, if you please."

Adam sat back and sighed. "This is going to take a while," he said. "Harry's had a crap life."

It did indeed take a while to recount the woes of Harry Potter's life. As important as the details were, Malone couldn't help but notice how Adam distanced himself in the recitation. Ron Weasley had been Harry Potter's best friend according to all the information Malone had, but Adam avoided referring to himself almost entirely.

"I don't know exactly what he did to kill Voldemort," Adam concluded wearily. "Knowing him, he expected to die too. I don't know for sure but I think Malfoy must had held him captive since then. It won't have been nice. He's certainly acting more like eight than eighteen at the moment."

"I understand he was referring to Mr Malfoy as his father," Malone remarked.

"His 'Daddy'," Adam corrected. Malone frowned at the air quotes. "Maybe not the best choice on Lucius' part. Harry's used to having father figures die on him."

"And now he has attached himself to Mr Curtis."

Malone saw the exact moment when Adam put those two sentences together. "Oh God," he said, "he's going to freak out every time Sam goes on a mission." Malone had gleaned as much from the hurried psychiatric report, but the confirmation was valuable.

"Has he had any strong maternal influences?" he asked.

Adam frowned. "Most of Harry's parents' friends were men," he said. "There's my mum, Molly Weasley, but she didn't get to see him that much."

"She is, however, still alive," Malone observed.

Adam nodded. Again, the penny dropped gratifyingly quickly. "She'd adopt him in a heartbeat, sir. She's wanted to ever since meeting his aunt and uncle." Utterly unsuitable people to bring up any child by all reports, never mind one they hated.

"I shall mention it to your brother tomorrow," Malone said. Percival Weasley had made a poor first impression on CI5, but was slowly redeeming himself. While he tended to be pompous and, in Ms Backus' trenchant phrase, his fieldwork sucked, he was proving a capable interrogator and an excellent administrator. Whatever paperwork was necessary for the adoption would not provide a serious obstacle.

"Er, is that wise, sir?", Adam asked nervously. "Harry's pretty famous in the wizarding world. If there's the slightest hint that he's alive, they won't give him a minute's peace. The press will want to talk to him; worse, the politicians will want him to endorse them. He can't cope with that, sir, not yet. We have to stay discreet about this, for Harry's sake."

"Indeed," Malone agreed. "Hence the involvement of your brother."

Adam snorted. "Sorry sir," he said when Malone glared at him, "but it's Percy. He's always been the one to follow the rules religiously no matter how stupid they are. All this spy-work is just not like him."

"Possibly the reason he was able to infiltrate so effectively," Malone admonished. "On the subject of family, have you yet been informed that you are expected for Sunday lunch with your parents?" Something that Weasley had let slip, it made a useful way in to what appeared to be a touchy subject with Adam.

Adam froze for a moment. "This Sunday?" he said. "I shouldn't be leaving Da— er, Chris on his own so soon after—"

"Mr Keel will of course be accompanying you." The older Weasleys were apparently keen to meet the man who had looked after their youngest son for the past year.

"He's just been tortured, sir," Adam protested. "He needs some time to recover."

"I look forward to hearing you tell him that," Malone said drily. He had been somewhat concerned with Chris Keel's state of mind himself, but it appeared that aside from one magical compulsion that Keel had already extracted revenge for, matters had not exceeded the limits of his training. Chris was not nearly as fragile as Adam wished to make out, which Malone found interesting. "Is there perhaps some strain in your relationship with your parents?" he asked.

"No!" Adam said quickly. "I love my family. Well, maybe not the twins when they've just pulled a prank, but those two could get on anyone's nerves."

His family, not his parents, Malone noted. "But you also love Mr Keel," he stated more than asked.

Adam visibly deflated. "They'll want me to move back in with them," he said.

"All evidence to the contrary, you are in fact an adult," Malone pointed out. Adam's eighteenth birthday had passed, unknown and therefore unmarked by CI5, some months earlier. "Where you live is entirely your own decision."

"It just feels stupid," Adam sighed. "Here I am, complaining that I've got two families when Alec just lost the last of his biological family."

"That doesn't make your dilemma any less real," Malone observed with a modicum of sympathy. "Though it should be pointed out that young Mr Curtis is rather vigorously rejecting his heritage." In fact he was refusing to answer to the Malfoy name or acknowledge his ownership of the family properties and accounts, such as remained. Weasley had confided that there were those who thought the Malfoys still had crimes to answer for, and regarded this as a cynical attempt to avoid prosecution. Malone had chosen to mention that neither Curtis would take kindly to such accusations, and nor would the rest of CI5.

"I keep reminding him that he's the same person no matter what his name is," Adam said glumly. "He won't believe me."

Malone simply raised an eyebrow. Adam Keel had spent the entire meeting dancing around the subject of Ron Weasley.

Adam squirmed under the inspection before bursting out, "I can't be him!" Malone raised his other eyebrow but softened his expression. This was something Adam needed to get off his chest but couldn't discuss with either set of parents.

"Ron Weasley had no plans," Adam explained. "Oh, I thought I might become an Auror — magic cop — but that was because Harry was bound to become one and I couldn't imagine not following Harry. Adam Keel knows what he wants to do with his life. Yeah, it's just got more complicated, but I want to be good enough to become an agent for myself, not because of anyone else."

"And Mr Curtis?" Malone asked.

"I want to work with him," Adam said, "not follow him."

Not the question Malone had intended, but a revealing answer all the same. Probing the relationship between the boys would be a distraction, though. "You suspect your parents will not understand your career choice?"

Adam buried his face in his hands. "They'll be very supportive," he groaned, "but some of their ideas of how we survive without magic are just hilariously wrong. And they're pretty well informed as wizards go."

Malone nodded, noting the use of pronouns carefully. It sounded very much like Adam had already made his decision, even if he hadn't realised it yet. "It strikes me," he said, "that you and Mr Curtis are in a unique position. You are familiar with both mundane and magical society, and have had reasonably full if unconventional educations in both. You have the background to understand intrusions from each into the other far better than any other agent could."

"I know that, sir," Adam muttered. Just like his adopted father would have.

"Have you considered that to continue to do so, you will have to work and socialise in both societies?" Malone observed, perhaps a trifle more loudly than was strictly necessary. "You noted earlier that your schoolmates from non-magical families became acclimatised to wizarding ways of thinking in the course of their education. There is no reason to think that the reverse is not also true."

"You think I don't have to choose between Chris, and Arthur and Molly?" Adam asked sceptical.

"I think it is an advantage to have strong connections in both camps," Malone told him. "I also think that all young people eventually wish to move away from their parents, no matter how much they love them."

Adam digested that for a moment. "But Alec..." He trailed off uncertainly.

Malone smiled. "Perhaps you should invite the Curtises to lunch too."

* * *

"Here you go."

Sam handed Alec a cup of tea. It was early for their very British evening ritual, but Alec had had two nights without sleep and no time to do more than cat-nap as they had tried to wind the case up.

They had managed to get Harry to bed, and that had been exhausting enough. It was no great surprise that he was clingy after everything he had been through, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. It wasn't until Sam had handed over his official CI5 ID and solemnly announced that he wouldn't be allowed into the office without it that Harry had relaxed at all. The kid had serious abandonment issues on top of everything else. It had taken over an hour for him to drop off to sleep, and Sam fully expected him to wake at least once in the night. It would probably be a good idea to shift the sofa so Harry would be able to see him from the bedroom doorway.

"You should have given him my bedroom," Alec said quietly.

Sam sipped his tea and sat back before answering. "Not a chance," he said. "You actually need your sleep. Besides, you've been through a lot yourself. I'm not going to add to that by turfing you out of your own room. Or making you share with someone you used to hate, before you suggest that."

"I don't..." Alec trailed off. He still had a lot on his mind obviously, and Sam let him have space to think. The best thing he could do for his son was simply to be there for him.

"I used to think he was such a spoiled brat," Alec said eventually. "All I saw was blatant favouritism from most of the teachers, the press fawning over him, the rules getting bent out of shape so he could do whatever he liked. All because when he was a baby he somehow killed V—Voldemort, someone Lucius told me was a great man.

"It turned out Voldemort wasn't really dead, and I had the privilege of meeting him. He was a psychopath. Lucius's 'great man' had us so terrified in our own home that my mother took her life. I was too scared to even think of hating him, and all the time Lucius kept singing his praises."

"Do you think he might have felt trapped too?" Sam asked. He was a bit concerned at how much hatred Alec had thrown at his father during their fight, as if he was evil incarnate and corrupted everything he touched. That wasn't a healthy way to think, not when Alec had been raised by the man.

Alec laughed mirthlessly. "Do you remember when we talked about ignoring the wrong sort of people? To Lucius, the wrong sort of people were the ones who sullied themselves by consorting with Muggles. Wizards whose parents weren't wizards were beneath contempt. You wouldn't have been the wrong sort of people to him, Dad, because you didn't count as people."

"He could still think that and be afraid of Voldemort," Sam pointed out.

Alec shook his head. "That monster could do no wrong in Lucius's eyes. Not even after mother..." He took a shuddering breath, and Sam leaned across to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I hate him," Alec declared vehemently.

"And part of you still wants him to approve of you and everything you've done," Sam said quietly. That was how his relationship with his father was as well, even if it was less extreme than Alec's.

"You remember what you said when I took to to meet Dad?" Sam continued. "It's as true for you as it was for me. You're a good man, whether you're Alec Curtis or Draco Malfoy. You're my son, and I love you no matter what the label."

"Even though I'm not really your son?"

"You are in every way that matters." Sam gave Alec's shoulder a gentle squeeze. He wasn't surprised when Alec all but threw himself into his arms for a hug. "I've got you," he murmured, "it's OK."

"Dad," Alec choked out eventually. "You nearly died."

"Happens more often than I like," Sam admitted.

"Yes but this time..."

"You feel responsible?" Sam guessed. Alec nodded miserably. "What you are responsible for is saving me," Sam said sincerely. When Alec looked like he might protest, Sam ploughed on. "Without you and Adam, Chris and I would still be down there with no hope of escape. Without your instincts and determination, CI5 would never have known what happened. Without your magic, we couldn't have turned the tables on Lucius."

"But Harry was the one to kill him," Alec objected.

"He wouldn't have been there if you and Adam hadn't found him, treated him like a human being and given him back just a little bit of sanity." Sam knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but Alec needed the reassurance. Sam was determined to be there for him, not the distance, unhelpful figure his own father had been.

It worked, but only a bit. "I screwed up, Dad," Alec admitted, but he leaned closer as he said it.

"Everyone does," Sam told him. "I still do. Even Chris does, from time to time." He seemed to be trying to take the blame for the two of them getting captured in the first place; at least that was the only reason Sam could think of for the way Chris had been avoiding him all day. The moment Sam wasn't too busy looking after Alec and Harry, they'd have it out.

"You learn from it and you move on," Sam continued. "There's no sense in dwelling on it. You know what you did wrong and why, and I think you've been shouted at quite enough over it." Sam hadn't done any of the shouting himself, but he knew Malone had had some choice words to say about Alec's reckless behaviour. Strangely it had been Adam's exasperated cry of "Impulsive bull-headed Gryffindor-wannabe!" that seemed to have stung most.

"Mr Malone didn't seem to think so," Alec said. "He wants a full account from me."

"He always does," Sam said. He thought about it for a moment before smiling. "You realise how he's treating you, don't you?"

"Like a disappointment," Alec sniffed.

"To Malone, we are all constant disappointments," Sam said philosophically. "Think about it; he's debriefed you, he wants a report..."

Understanding dawned on Alec's face. "He's treating me like an agent," he said.

Sam nodded. "You aren't the finished article yet, mind you, but you did good enough that he isn't dismissing you out of hand. I don't know whether to be proud or terrified."

"I think I'm both," Alec said. He looked a little shocked. "We're going to need..." He paused, shaking his head. "I was going to say that we needed so much more training in magical techniques, but between us Adam and I have probably had as much unofficial Auror training as CI5 courses."

Not enough, then, in Sam's opinion. "You can figure out how to fill in the gaps in the morning," he said gently. "You've had a long couple of days, and it doesn't need to be done right now."

Alec smiled tiredly. "Hint taken," he said, levering himself to his feet. "Good night."

Sam stood up as well. "Before you go, could you help me shift the sofa? I want Harry to be able to see me easily when he wakes up in the middle of the night."

"No problem." Alec grinned and pulled out his wand. With a few complex movements the sofa shifted position and morphed into a comfortable-looking bed. Some more swishes and muttered Dog Latin had bed linen floating out of the airing cupboard and fitting itself neatly in place. In the space of ten seconds, Sam's sleeping arrangements went from uncomfortable to entirely acceptable.

"I'm never going to get tired of watching things like that," he said. Alec flushed happily.


	19. Chapter 19

It's only Sunday lunch, Chris told himself. He didn't sound very convincing. They were meeting Adam's — Ron's real parents for the first time, and no matter how often he was told they were good people, Chris couldn't help but worry. It felt like he was losing his son. Still, there was nothing for it but to put on his game face and knock on the door.

Adam nudged him on the shoulder. "It'll be OK, Dad," he whispered. He too was nervous as hell, but he was hiding it well. Behind them Sam smiled reassuringly while Alec looked nearly as sick with worry as Chris felt. Harry by contrast was staring at the house with open longing.

Before Chris could say anything, the door opened to reveal a homely-looking woman. "Good morning, Mrs Weasley," he said, smiling broadly. She looked about the right age to be Adam's mother, so he wouldn't embarrass himself too much.

He might as well not have bothered. The woman only had eyes for Adam. She gasped out "Ron!" then hugged the stuffing out of him. A— Ron actually squeaked, which made Chris feel a bit easier with the whole situation.

A taller red-headed man appeared in the doorway. "Sorry about that," he said genially. "Molly has a year's worth of hugs to catch up on. I'm Arthur Weasley," he continued, grasping Chris's hand and pumping it vigorously. "You must be Christopher Keel?"

"Call me Chris," Chris said, slightly taken aback by the man's enthusiasm. He managed to retrieve his hand and gestured at the others. "This is my colleague Sam Curtis, and of course you already know Harry and..." For a moment Alec's real name escaped him. He'd been so focused on not calling Sam his partner, with all the implication that word was loaded with.

"Draco Malfoy, as I live and breathe," Arthur said, staring at Alec in fascination. Then he shook himself and grinned again. "Well, we can't have you standing outside like this. Come in, come in. Molly, do let the boy catch his breath."

"Oh Arthur," Molly Weasley admonished, and Adam made another inarticulate noise of embarrassment. She did let go of him, though. Chris grinned himself and lead the way into the house, trusting Sam to herd the rest of them in.

It was bigger on the inside. Not by an awful lot, but enough that Chris made a mental note to toss Dr Who references at Adam. Still it was domestic magic, and Chris was pretty impressed to see it. Judging from the well-worn state of virtually everything the Weasleys didn't have much money to go around, so adding space like this had to be cheap and easy.

The clock was the next thing to catch his attention. It only looked like a clock to a quick glance. When Chris looked at it properly he noticed immediately that it had five hands, each with a picture, and the hour markings had been replaced with phrases like 'At School' and 'In Mortal Peril'. The hands with pictures of Arthur and Molly Weasley were pointing to 'At Home', two identical-looking red-heads were 'Up To Something', and prissy Percy was 'Running Late'. Spencer would kill for something like that, Chris reflected. Of course he would then complain that Chris and Sam were always 'In Mortal Peril' and some specifics would be nice. Some people were never satisfied.

Four clock hands were mounted on the wall beside the clock. Three of them had pictures of two young men and a teenaged girl, all with bright red hair. Those must be the brothers and sister Ad— Ron said had died fighting Voldemort: Bill, Charlie and Ginny. The fourth hand was a twisted, blackened thing, its picture shattered beyond recognition. Ron's. It could only be Ron's.

"Ah," Arthur said, coming up behind him. "Yes. I found it like that after You Know Who was defeated. Hermione has a theory that the magical explosion travelled from Ron to the clock somehow. None of the other hands would register properly for weeks."

"So it may have bled some of the energy off and saved his life," Chris said, following the logic through. "Their lives, I mean. I can see why you thought he was dead."

"Oh!" A small voice said before Arthur could reply. Harry had seen the clock and stopped dead. "I did that?" He looked horrified.

Molly Weasley bustled over. "Oh Harry, we know you would never mean—"

"But I nearly killed Ron!" Harry wailed.

Ron was in front of him in moments. "You did what needed to be done, mate," he said very seriously. "If you had asked me, I'd have told you to go for it anyway. Killing Voldemort was more important."

"I might not have agreed with him at the time," Alec said quietly, "but he's right. Besides, it turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me." He smiled at Sam, and Chris couldn't help but feel a little proud.

"Really?" Harry asked. His eyes were still brimming with unshed tears.

"Really," Adam confirmed. "It's not like you were expecting to walk out of there yourself."

"Though I'm exceedingly glad that you did," Alec chipped in. Chris silently approved. Any plan that got any of the kids killed was a bad plan in his book.

"Can I still be sorry?" Harry asked.

"Of course you can," Molly said, sweeping him into a hug. "Even though you don't need to be."

Arthur raised his eyebrows at Chris. Chris nodded glumly, understanding the silent question. Sadly this was normal for Harry right now.

The moment was broken by a clattering on the stairs. Two young men arrived in the living room with great commotion.

"Ronnikins," one of them said.

"Brother dearest," the other threw in.

"You brought guests."

"And Malfoy."

Chris, forewarned about the twins, just rolled his eyes. Adam, who had done the forewarning, was clearly much less amused. He drew himself up to his full height and stepped between Alec and the twins. "Just to be clear," he said flatly, "if you do anything to him, I will hurt you."

The twins raised an eyebrow each, but Alec broke in before they could say anything. "I'm not a damsel in distress you know," he complained, sounding mildly amused. "I can take care of myself."

"You don't know this pair," Adam said, giving his brothers a death glare.

"I survived five years of school with them," Alec said deceptively mildly. "It was good training for having a megalomaniac psychopath take over my home."

The twin's eyes narrowed. "I do believe we've just been insulted, Gred," one of them said.

"Still, it's nice to know we're useful, Forge," said the other.

"Nice to know our sacred duty is appreciated."

"And at such reasonable rates."

"That's enough, boys," Molly said firmly. "I won't have fighting at the dinner table."

"We're not at the dinner table yet," Adam said darkly.

"Adam," Chris said sharply.

Adam subsided with a muttered "Sorry Dad," but he didn't stop glaring at the twins. It was only when Chris noticed the odd look on Arthur's face that he realised what he had done.

There was a loud ticking from the clock. Chris saw Percy Weasley's hand move to 'Travelling'. Moments later green flames sprang up in the large fireplace and Percy stumbled out of it, brushing ash off his clothes. "I hope I'm not too late," he said. "Mortimer forgot the office password, so I had to go in and unstick him from the ceiling. Agent Curtis, Agent Keel, good to see you again."

Sam grimaced. "Call us Sam and Chris, please," he said. "We're not at work now."

"Yeah," Chris chipped in, "it's been confusing enough there with the boys being debriefed." Malone's habit of only using surnames had resulted at least once in both Sam and Alec thinking they'd been summoned. It had been sheer good luck the same thing hadn't happened to him and Adam.

"I see you've met the twins," Percy said disapprovingly. Chris smirked. He could imagine how badly someone as uptight as Percy might get on with someone as anarchic as the twins. Or maybe they were such fruit-loops because it wound their big brother up.

"We haven't actually been introduced," Sam pointed out.

"I'm Fred and he's George," the twin on the right said promptly.

"Lies, all lies," the one on the left insisted. "I'm Fred and he's George."

Alec looked at Adam. "I'm Spartacus?" he offered.

Adam buried his face in his hands. "Oh God," he said, "it's catching."

"Hey, it's not like he started on Monty Python," Chris told his son. Adam shot him a betrayed look.

"George is the one with the mangled ear," Percy said stiffly. "A cutting curse came much too close while he was playing with Bellatrix Lestrange."

Adam sighed and Alec look disconcerted. Apparently this meant something to them. "That doesn't sound wise," Alec said. "Aunt Bella was usually the one playing, and she enjoyed breaking her toys." He shivered.

"I was luring her into a trap," George said loftily.

"She had already spotted me," Percy said. "If that masonry hadn't fallen on her..."

"That was the trap, you nit-wit."

"Boys, boys," Arthur said as if this was nothing new, which was probably true. "Percy's here now, so we can all sit down for lunch."

"Isn't Hermione coming?" Harry asked.

"She's stuck in Romania, unfortunately," Percy said.

"With Viktor," Fred added, looking slyly at Adam.

"And dragon pox," George put in, doing the same. Harry sighed, and Adam shrugged. Twin eyebrows rose again. Chris wondered if Hermione was supposed to be Adam's girlfriend. He hadn't said anything, but then Chris hadn't exactly asked.

"So this is all of us for today," Arthur said firmly, cutting off any more banter. "Harry, would you help Molly carry the food in?"

Harry actually took a couple of steps towards the kitchen before looking to Sam for permission. Chris breathed a little easier; the kid had been so clingy over the last few days, seeing him even that little bit surer of himself was a relief. Chris had a fair idea of what the kid had been through, and it spoke volumes about Harry's resilience to see him actually smile for more than a second. Maybe Malone's harebrained scheme to palm him off on the Weasleys would work after all.

Arthur pulled him aside from the general drift towards the dining table. "What exactly happened to Harry?" he asked. "Percy refused to tell us any details."

"We don't know the details," Chris admitted. The psychologist who had interviewed Harry might know more, but she wasn't talking. "Lucius Malfoy had him believing he wasn't even good enough to be a minion. If it hadn't been the boys who found him, he would probably have told Lucius straight away, he was that desperate for approval."

"That poor boy," Arthur said. "I always wished we could take him away from those terrible relatives of him. For someone like Lucius to have had his claws in him for so long..." He shook his head sadly.

"If it's any consolation, he already looks more comfortable here," Chris said.

"So you think it might work, him coming to live with us?" Arthur kept his face serious, but Chris could hear the hope in his voice.

"Maybe," Chris told him. The psych report said it was worth a try as long as Harry didn't think he was being abandoned. "A— Ron said Harry loved staying with you over the holidays, so he must have happy memories of this place."

"We'd love to have him," Arthur said. "Perhaps he could stay overnight, just to see? No?" he contradicted himself quickly, "he always shared Ron's room. He might find Ron not being there strange."

"Then all three of them should stay over," Chris suggested. It would help Adam reconnect with his family, and it would be no bad thing for Alec either.

"All three?" Arthur pondered that for a moment, then broke into a broad smile. "You know, I think that might be a very good idea. It might make some of the... louder wizards pause if we're treating Draco as family. If he can win the twins over, a good word from them reaches a lot of ears in Diagon Alley, if I do say so myself."

Arthur was still beaming by the time they reached the table. His children looked a little worriedly at him for a moment before shrugging and resuming their chatter. Sam was busy pouring the wine he'd brought "Because a Sunday roast deserves something good to go with it," and never mind Adam's insistence that his family weren't wine drinkers. Slipping into a vacant seat, Chris had little doubt that the bottles would be empty by the end of the meal.

Unfortunately talking to Arthur had cost Chris the opportunity to buffer Alec against the Weasleys. Adam had claimed the seat on one side of him, but one of the twins — with that ear it must be George — was sat on his other side looking like the cat that had got the canary. Alec was looking perfectly relaxed, which almost certainly meant he was on high alert.

Harry carried the roast in on a platter like his life depended on it. The twins immediately began clapping and cheering, and Chris joined in on general principles. Harry looked taken aback for a moment, then drew himself up and laid the platter in front of Arthur with a flourish. Arthur managed to keep a straight face as he bowed to Harry, but was grinning broadly by the time he reached for the carving knife. Harry grinned back before squeezing into the space Sam had saved for him. Harry would be sitting next to Molly, Chris noted, something that was not likely to be an accident with his devious partner involved.

Molly herself bustled in without ceremony. She was carrying a gravy boat, and dishes of vegetables bobbed along behind her. Chris was amazed at the sight, and so was Sam even though he masked it quickly. Nobody else reacted much at all.

Lunch quickly descended into happy eating noises. It was good home cooking, Chris had to admit. Nothing pretentious about it, just decent roast meat and veggies. He liked it.

"This is really good, Molly," Sam said. He looked almost wistful. "It's a long time since I've had anything like this."

"Coming from Sam, that's quite a compliment," Chris added. Going round and watching his partner 'just throw something together' was always an experience.

"You cook?" Arthur asked Sam while Molly looked pleased.

"My mother died when I was a teenager, and my father worked long hours," Sam explained. "I learned to cook in sheer self-defence. A roast for the two of us always seemed wasteful, though."

"I'm willing to offer an expert opinion if you want to try it," Adam said quickly.

"I'd tell you to learn to cook yourself," Alec put in, "but I've seen you try. It was horrifying."

"Not up to your usual standards?" Fred asked suspiciously pleasantly. Chris narrowed his eyes.

"It was like watching Longbottom in Potions. We had to throw the saucepan away."

"I got your spaghetti bolognese out of it," Adam said cheerily, "so I'm not complaining." Chris switched his glare over to Adam. "What? He had a pot of it ready and waiting, it was practically an engraved invitation."

"I believe in being prepared," Alec fired back. "If you hadn't produced something totally inedible it would have kept."

"Wait, _you_ cook?" George asked disbelievingly. He reached for his wine glass.

"Sam is teaching me," Alec said. "CI5 doesn't exactly keep regular hours, and as I said, I believe in being prepared."

"I believe in take out," Adam asserted.

Fred gave Alec an amused smile. "So you're ready for anything?" he asked.

"Of course," Alec said. "Why did you think I switched glasses with George?"

Alec's timing was immaculate, Chris had to admit. He swore he saw wine come out of George's nose before the man set down his glass and fled from the dining room.

Percy broke the silence. "I'm coming to a whole new appreciation of your skillset," he told Alec.

Alec waved it away. "We've had excellent teachers," he said. Chris would have complained that whoever had taught Alec that sleight-of-hand hadn't intended it to be used that way, except that he was pretty sure he was wrong. Fortunately George came back in then, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth with a disgusted expression.

"It needs more sugar," he told his twin before glaring at Alec.

"The antidote tastes revolting, what a surprise," Alec said smugly. He pulled out his wand and conjured up a new wine glass. "Of course the irony is I didn't switch our glasses."

George sat down heavily and put his head in his hands. "My reputation is in tatters," he moaned. "I've been bested by a Malfoy."

"You've been bested by a Curtis," Adam corrected. "It happens. A lot."

Chris watched Fred take in the proud smile Adam had for Alec and the small, pleased grin he got in response. Fred leaned back consideringly, then smiled a worryingly evil smile. "How much green wool do you have, Mum?" he asked.

Molly looked at him suspiciously. "I have plenty, dear," she said. "Why?"

Fred's smile was much too wide to be innocent. "Just that you'll need a fair bit for Ron's boyfriend's sweater."

This time it was Adam who snorted wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to CorialJay for reminding me about the Weasley family clock. I had entirely forgotten about it, but it made a good talking point before lunch and solved a plot hole. Thanks!


	20. Chapter 20

Alec put his overnight bag down beside the little bed made up for him and ruthlessly squashed down the things he wanted to say. He had offered to take one of the other bedrooms, or even the sofa, but no. Harry used to share with Ron when he stayed with the Weasleys, so now all three of them had to share. Normally Alec would think nothing of it. He had shared a hotel room with Adam, and the few days Harry had been with the Curtises had been long enough for the two of them to get used to each other. Normally it wouldn't be a problem.

Normally Adam wasn't a huge ball of unexploded stress.

Adam closed the bedroom door and dropped his bag by his old bed. "Fred's just stirring," he said, "he didn't really mean anything." Then he reconsidered the situation and pushed the door open again.

Alec didn't bother to say that he knew that. Quite apart from being an utter lie — he was sure Fred had meant every word — it hadn't calmed Adam down any the last three times he'd tried. Instead he asked, "Why has this got you so wound up?"

Adam shut the door again quickly. "I'm not wound up," he said. Alec didn't dignify that with a response. "It's just I didn't want you to think..."

Alec waited for the sentence to finish. When it didn't, he said, "After charging in to confront Lucius, I should be thinking a good deal more."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Adam protested. Alec let him stew some more. The distraction hadn't lightened Adam's mood, so his only real recourse was to wait until Adam guilted himself into explaining. Hopefully Molly Weasley would keep Harry in her motherly clutches for long enough.

It took less time than Alec expected. "I know that kind of talk makes you uncomfortable," Adam said, looking supremely uncomfortable himself. "It's worse when it's actually aimed at you. I just didn't want you to feel like that."

"I don't," Alec said simply. It was true enough. All of his current discomfort stemmed from how thoroughly he'd been trained to think of the Weasley family as worthless, and how dangerous he thought it was being in the same house as the twins.

"You... don't?" Adam asked. He didn't sound any less uncomfortable, and Alec started paying closer attention. Normally it was Adam talking Alec down from whatever stupidity had entered his head. Alec didn't have much practise in returning the favour.

"It may have taken me a while," he said carefully, "but my best friend did persuade me that our parents could conceivably be gay and still be the same people we know and love. Mostly by being an obsessive loon about the subject, but still. If it isn't a big deal about them, it shouldn't be a big deal about me or you, even if it was true."

"'Shouldn't' doesn't mean 'isn't'," Adam countered. He was still nervous so this was probably something about him, not something he thought about Alec.

"True, but there are extenuating circumstances," Alec agreed. "If I were attracted to a man, he would have to be someone I trusted. Someone who'll watch my back and not complain when I watch his. Someone who backs me up when I screw up the plan but isn't afraid to call me on it afterwards. Someone who's pretty damn competent in his own right."

The ego-stroking had an effect, if not the one Alec was expecting. Adam did smile a little at the recitation of his virtues, but it didn't reach his eyes. When Alec was done, he watched Adam carefully blank his face and say, "So you're good, then. That's good. I mean it's good that you aren't attracted..."

Adam's smile was ghastly, and Alec wasn't having it. It was an offence against nature, that smile. It meant that Adam was pretending to be happy when he was really miserable as hell. Alec couldn't imaging what was making him feel that bad, but he _would_ figure it out. It was practically his duty to his—

Oh.

Shit.

Alec crossed the room in two strides, grabbed Adam and kissed him hard. Then he stepped back, just in case he'd got this horribly wrong and Adam was about to punch his lights out. "Now I'm good," he said.

Adam looked adorably confused. "But you aren't," he began, then cut himself off. "You _said_..."

"I said that I find all those qualities of yours attractive. The package they come in?" He shrugged. "I realised it didn't matter about the same time I realised you loved me."

"What? I don't! Don't be ridiculous." Alec wasn't fooled by the denial. He knew Adam well enough to hear the fear in his voice, which meant his idiot best friend wasn't listening.

"Just hold it a minute, OK?" he sighed. "You may have noticed I'm not used to being loved. Lucius certainly never thought of me as anything but his successor." Adam snorted at that, which Alec took as a good sign.

"It took a while for me to understand what was happening when Sam took me in," he continued. "I'd never had that kind of love and support before, and it confused me. By the time I figured out that I ought to love him back, I was already doing it.

"You are the best friend I've ever had. You're like a brother to me, and I thought that was how we were to one another. I've never had a brother and like I said I haven't much experience being loved, and I thought that this was just how it was. It never even occurred to me that it might be something else until Fred opened his big mouth. But I know you, and I know you took that ribbing much harder than you would if we were just friends."

"But you don't feel like that," Adam protested. "I know what you think about homosexuality, it still makes you uncomfortable."

"Fortunately my best friend has been desensitising me and undoing a lifetime of Lucius' indoctrination." Alec grinned a little. "I'm comfortable enough to accept that this is what I want."

"Want," Adam repeated sadly. "Does what we want matter? You're Draco Malfoy and I'm Ron Weasley. How are we supposed to fight that?"

Alec took a step closer. "You're Adam Keel and I'm Alec Curtis. We fight dirty."

Kissing Adam the second time was better. Adam kissed back for one thing. He relaxed into Alec's hold, and Alec was finally able to let go of the last lingering doubts he had about this. "Better?" he asked when they paused for breath.

"Much," Adam said, and leant in again.

Alec pulled back. "I'd love to keep on doing this," he said, "but Harry's going to walk in on us in a minute."

Adam whined but stopped pursuing. "We'd better not start anything we can't finish," he agreed reluctantly. "God knows how he'd react after all he's been through. I bet Lucius would have abused him."

"Or had him abused," Alec added darkly. He moved slowly back to this bed and started unpacking.

Moments later Harry opened the door and stepped inside. He smiled softly as he looked around the room, no doubt remembering happy summers spent here. Alec couldn't begrudge him that, not after the year Harry had had. He could be patient, though Adam might find it frustrating. Was finding it frustrating if his wry grin was anything to go by. Alec smirked back at him.

"Oh." The soft exclamation startled Alec. Harry was looking between him and Adam with dawning understanding, and Alec felt his stomach sink. Adam's lips were a little puffy from kissing, and his were probably no better. Damn it, why did Potter have to pick now to start being perceptive?

Harry fixed them both with a glare. "You couldn't have waited three more days?" he demanded.

Alec was thoroughly wrong-footed. "What?" he said.

"I was sure it would take a full week for you to get over yourselves," Harry complained. "Now you've gone and let Mr Spencer win the sweepstake."

"Sweepstake?" Adam asked faintly. "How did you know...?"

"Everyone kept asking me about you two," Harry explained. "At first I thought it was about the memory thing, so I told them you were both OK, but they kept smiling and asking. So I watched you, and honestly you two couldn't be more obvious if you tried."

"Apparently we could," Alec said, nettled. He hadn't had a clue about Adam's feelings until about five minutes ago.

"I thought about it a bit," Harry continued, "and asked Miss Backus if she'd put me down for Wednesday."

"I bet that surprised her," Adam said grumpily. He turned to Alec. "Do you think we could make it look like we colluded with Spence?"

Alec actually considered that for a moment. It was a possibility, but annoying the person most responsible for keeping their parents alive wouldn't be smart. "We've probably got a better chance of browbeating him into buying a round. You're taking this awfully calmly," he said to Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Lucius insisted that it was unnatural," he said, "so I knew it couldn't be all bad. I just had to make out that I was terrified when he threatened me with it. He always believed me when I cried."

Alec looked at him narrowly. "You are a manipulative little bastard," he said with feeling. Harry looked worried. "In this case, that's a good thing," Alec added quickly.

"I didn't enjoy it," Harry insisted, "but it was just sex."

"It was rape," Adam disagreed. "It should have been your choice."

"I didn't get a choice about anything," Harry shot back. "Nobody did. The men couldn't be disloyal to Lucius, and by the end I didn't want to be either. If punishing me made him feel good, that was OK. It didn't feel like he was taking anything away from me, because it didn't feel like there was anything to take."

"That's a survival strategy," Alec said quietly before Adam could explode. "You know you don't have to think like that anymore, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "Dr Reynolds said," he admitted. "She wants me to take charge of my life, but I don't want to do that yet. I'm not used to having things." He paused, looking very young and vulnerable. "I've never been used to having things."

Alec and Adam moved as one, putting reassuring hands on Harry's shoulders. It still shocked Alec that Harry had had such a horrible childhood, something he hadn't known until he had persuaded Adam to brief him. In some ways it might have been a good thing, Alec mused; living with his aunt and uncle hadn't sounded like it was much easier than being Lucius's captive.

"You know you've always got us, right?" Adam said. His voice was rough with emotion.

"Both of us," Alec added. "We're a package deal these days."

Harry smiled at them. "I should ask Mrs Weasley if I can sleep in a different room, give you some time to, uh, deal with the package."

Alec held up a hand. "First, never try innuendo like that again," he said, smirking to soften the words. "That was just painful. Second, the whole point of this sleepover is for you to be here, in this room. Somewhere you know, full of good memories."

"You deserve more good memories," Adam insisted.

Harry ducked his head. "This is the only place besides Hogwarts that I have happy memories of," he admitted. "I only spent a few weeks here, but it's more of a home to me that Privet Drive ever was." He took a deep breath and gave Alec a melancholy look. "Would Sam be very offended if I wanted to come here more?"

"Sam wouldn't be offended if you wanted to live here," Alec told him. That was the plan as he understood it. "He's proud to be the one taking care of you, but you know he's convinced he is a terrible father."

"But he's been brilliant," Harry protested.

"You know that and I know that," Alec agreed, "but I haven't managed to persuade Sam yet. His father... let's just say he's a grumpy old man and nothing Sam does is ever good enough for him. Sam's afraid he'll be the same."

Harry digested that for a moment. "You're sure he'd be OK?" he asked in a small voice. It was the first time this evening he hadn't sounded like the old Harry Potter, Alec realised with a shock.

"Definitely," he said. "Particularly when I tell him how good this place has already been for you."

"It's not like we won't be in and out all the time," Adam added encouragingly. "At the very least, Mum's going to insist on Sunday lunch."

"Alright," Harry laughed, "you can stop trying so hard." He wasn't convinced yet, Alec thought, but it was time to stop pushing. Simply being in these comforting surroundings — not something Draco Malfoy would have ever called The Burrow — would do the rest.

"Sleep on it," he suggested. "See what you think about it in the morning."

Harry gave him a wry smile. "How much sleep do you think I'm going to get stuck between you two?" he asked.

"More than if we were still fighting," Adam said firmly.

"But not much," Alec couldn't help adding.

* * *

Sam let himself into Chris's flat and burst out laughing.

"Yeah, yuk it up," Chris said. He was reading what looked like a scroll and had a small owl perched on his head. The little ball of fluff bobbed up and down, and twittered enthusiastically.

"It suits you," Sam told him, heading for the coffee machine. As he had hoped, the pot was full. "News from Adam?" he asked, pulling down a couple of mugs.

"Yeah. Apparently we were right, it was good for Harry." Sam suppressed a pang of disappointment. It was what they had been hoping for after all, but he couldn't help be sorry that he hadn't been enough for Harry. He'd got used to the kid over the last few days.

"Nice as it will be to get my own bed back, I'm going to miss the guy," he admitted.

"No you're not," Chris told him. "Apparently we have standing orders for Sunday lunch. Molly calls it an invitation, but Adam doesn't believe her."

Sam chuckled. His occasional crusades to get real food into the Keels were about to get a lot easier. "Anything else?" he asked, pulling the milk from Chris's fridge and giving it a cautious sniff. Good enough for him, he decided, and Chris took his coffee black.

"I quote, 'Alec and I are an item.'"

"Subtle." Sam slid Chris's coffee in front of him. He frowned when he noticed Chris move away minutely. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Not unless you think so." Chris sounded reasonable enough as he put the parchment down, but he didn't look at Sam when he picked up his coffee.

"Let me rephrase that," Sam said. "What's the problem?"

"There is no problem," Chris said firmly. The owl on his head hooted and took off, did a circuit of the kitchen and landed on the back of a chair.

"I'm with him," Sam said, not hiding his scepticism.

"Seriously, I don't have a problem with our kids dating," Chris insisted. "They're adults, they get to make their own decisions. Dad will grumble, but he'll get over it."

"Grumble?" Sam queried. "Because they're men?"

"Partly," Chris admitted. "He's old-fashioned military and they are at least considering service. Mostly he'll just think they're too young."

"Huh." That wasn't quite the tale Sam had been told in Washington about Chris's disastrous wedding, but it made more sense of some of the tensions between Chris and his parents. "That's a problem for later, I guess. Are they still planning on making their own way to HQ this morning?"

"Yeah, they claim they need to practise apparating," Chris said. He grabbed a pen and notepad. "I'd better remind them not to appear in the building. Somebody would overreact."

Sam looked at the little owl, which was no perched on top of the refrigerator with a hopeful expression on its face. "Are you supposed to feed owls?" he asked.

"Adam mentioned something about bacon rind," Chris said distractedly. He ripped the paper he'd been writing on off the notepad.

Sam mentally reviewed what he'd seen in Chris's fridge. "You're out of bacon and it's out of luck," he observed. The owl twittered in annoyance but allowed Chris to tie his note to its leg. Sam made a mental note that magical delivery owls were smart enough to understand human speech. He'd be careful what he said around them in the future.

Just as Chris finished with the owl, a loud thump came from the kitchen window. Sam turned to see another owl spread-eagled against the window glass, looking very surprised. It blinked at Sam, then toppled backwards off the windowsill. The little owl hooted excitedly and hopped over to tap at the glass.

Sam looked enquiringly at Chris, who shrugged. "Maybe wizards' windows open automatically for owls," he suggested. Opening the window manually was good enough for the little owl, which shot out and started flying joyous circles around the other owl as it flapped laboriously back up. This time it made it through the window, missed the chair and ended up sprawled in an untidy heap on the kitchen table. It blinked up at Sam and thrust a foot out at him. Sam untied the attached letter, curiously addressed to 'Sam Curtis, Chris Keel's flat', and thanked the owl politely.

"It's from Harry," he said recognising the messy scrawl. "Let's see, apology... apology... oh, apparently he accidentally outed Adam and Alec to Molly and Arthur."

Chris snorted, then frowned. "How's he taking it?" Sam raised an eyebrow at the worry he heard. "Malfoy wasn't above using sexual abuse as a punishment," Chris elaborated. "I'll be surprised if Harry hasn't been raped, especially given how much Malfoy hated him."

Sam carefully didn't think about what might have happened to Chris. "It's hard to tell," he said, "but he seems more amused than anything. He was surprised Molly hadn't noticed, because... uh..."

It was Chris's turn to raise an eyebrow. "What?" he asked.

Sam took a deep breath and put the letter down. "Because apparently Alec and Adam are even more obvious than we are."

"What?!"

"I know." It was a ridiculous idea. Harry had to be mistaking the closeness that came from them operating as a team for so long, given the way the poor kid had been treated. Sam wouldn't have given it another thought beyond what it meant about Harry, but Chris was blushing and not looking at him. Given what they had been talking about, Sam was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

"What happened, Chris," he asked softly.

"Nothing happened," Chris insisted a little too quickly. He wouldn't meet Sam's eyes.

"So you won't mind me requesting a copy of your report, then?" Chris wouldn't have lied or omitted anything where Malone would find out, Sam was pretty sure of that. It was a risky gambit, though; just the act of Sam making the request would raise questions. He didn't want everyone poking their noses into Chris's business, that was his job.

Fortunately Chris took the threat seriously. "Nothing bad," he insisted. "The worst that happened was Scarface mind-controlled me into giving one of his goons a blow-job."

Sam forced himself to relax. Yet another reason to wish Lucius Malfoy hadn't died so quickly, he thought. "Who should I go and make very sorry?" he asked grimly.

Chris waved it off. "The guy's already sorry and still singing soprano."

Sam mentally riffled through the list of Malfoy's unwilling staff and came up with a name almost instantly. Tony Munroe, the small-minded criminal Chris had kicked the shit out of. "Yeah," he said, "I'll be having a word with Mr Munroe all the same. Wouldn't want him thinking he can get away with doing that to my partner."

Chris grinned back. It didn't reach his eyes, though, and he flinched minutely when Sam moved. Again. Sam silently debated whether continuing to push would get him anywhere, but Chris didn't give him the chance to find out.

"Come on," he said, dumping his empty mug in the sink. "We'll be late if we don't get a move on, and no amount of gossip about the kids is worth the Wrath of Malone."

"True," Sam agreed. He finished his own coffee and tailed after Chris, wondering what to do. Something was worrying his partner, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this time he really need to know.


	21. Chapter 21

This was one of those times, Adam thought, when balancing "being Adam Keel" and "being Ron Weasley" was trickier than normal.

CI5, in the shape of Chris and Sam and less officially Alec and himself, were wasting hours at the modest housing unit they had squashed some of Lucius Malfoy's victims into because the Metropolitan Police wanted to know everything possible about the distribution network Malfoy had set up. The DI in charge had been flat out ordered not to pursue certain lines of enquiry, something in which Adam sensed Percy's heavy hand. This did not incline them to believe the official line about the couriers being hypnotised, despite it being close enough to the truth that they wouldn't be able to tell the difference. That left them going after the people who received the shipments of drugs, which Adam reckoned was a good thing, but to do that they needed to interview Malfoy's minions. That meant CI5 had to have people present to make sure the Met didn't overstep their bounds and force the Ministry to get involved. And that in turn meant Alec and Adam getting drafted in, because Malone already had too many agents tied up with this case.

Adam's balance problem was that being a wizard he got the total if terrified respect of the interviewees, but being barely official CI5 got him no respect at all from the police. He had tried being polite, assertive and downright annoyed by turns in an effort to get the police interviewer to stick to what he was allowed to ask. Unfortunately DS Davies was being a dick. It was enough to make Adam seriously reconsider applying to them.

"The answer's still 'brainwashing'," he snapped as Davies asked his latest victim why he had carried out Lucius's orders. Again.

Davies snorted. "You seriously expect me to believe that someone who has been through military RTI training doesn't even try to escape?" he demanded.

"Yes, I seriously expect you to believe that," Adam sighed.

"If I may, sir?" the interviewee asked diffidently. Cpl Mo Bowen was a big man, fully capable of holding his own in a fight. His hesitance towards Adam had to look odd. Judging from the way Davies's face darkened, he hadn't missed the fact that Bowen was asking Adam's permission to speak, not his. Adam sighed again and nodded. He was starting to get a headache.

"There wasn't an opportunity to escape before the—" Bowen stopped, drew breath and set his jaw determinedly. "Before Mr Malfoy used his bag of tricks on me. Afterwards, escaping would have been disloyal. I couldn't even think that thought."

"Bullshit," Davies snapped. "Brainwashing doesn't work like that outside of the movies."

"It did for me," Bowen said with a shrug. He looked at Adam in mute appeal.

"It's confidential," Adam said, not for the first time. "You don't need to know why Lucius's minions followed his orders. Just accept that they did and move on."

Davies wasn't even marginally polite about scoffing. "You're what, eighteen? And you think you get to order me about?"

"I'm eighteen," Adam agreed, "and I know I get to order you about."

"Yeah, that's not happening," Davies informed him.

"Then we're done here." Adam shut his notebook, grabbed his pen and stood, finally out of patience.

"We're not done until I say so," Davies said dismissively. Bowen winced.

"You won't stick to the limits of your investigation," Adam said as evenly as he could. "Normally that's something I'm all for, but this time you're courting a bigger shitstorm than you think is possible. So this interview is over, sergeant, and you personally don't get to sit in on any more. Leave. Now." He probably didn't have the authority to make that order stick, but his dad did. And would.

"Make me," Davies sneered. Adam saw red and reached for his wand.

"Sir!" Bowen's urgent shout stopped him before he could draw his wand from his sleeve. He converted the action into crossing his arms instead. Yeah, probably not his brightest idea, using overt magic on someone who wasn't supposed to know about magic at all. It wasn't like he needed to; Davies had clearly never been nearer a martial art than _Enter The Dragon_ , and getting him into an armlock should be easy.

"I've seen him in action, sergeant," Bowen told Davies while Adam considered his options. "He can make you leave."

"I promise if I have to, you'll never live the embarrassment down." Adam did his best imitation of his dad's nastiest smile.

A long moment stretched out between them. Davies for once said nothing, apparently actually considering Bowen's earnestness. Adam was on the point of removing the guy anyway when the door opened and Sam poked his head in. He took in the situation in a moment, and was instantly all business.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, in tones that suggested there had better not be.

"DS Davies was just leaving," Adam said shortly. "The building."

"Ah." Sam turned his best dad-face on Davies. I know what you're thinking, that face said, and you're going to unthink it right this second if you know what's good for you. Adam nearly cheered.

"I still have questions," Davies said sullenly. He clearly didn't know when to cut his losses.

"That's nice," Sam said unsympathetically. "You're being allowed access to these witnesses as a courtesy. That courtesy can be withdrawn at any time, and just has been. Consider yourself lucky I'm not throwing your colleagues out too."

Davies looked for a moment like he might try to push his luck. Fortunately for him, he thought better of it and gathered up his things. Sam and Adam accompanied him to the front door, Bowen following along behind, to make sure he actually left and didn't try intimidating any of the others. Davies turned to them in the doorway.

"This isn't over," he said.

"Yes it is," Sam said firmly. "Unless you want the Chief Commissioner to get complaints about you from the Cabinet Office. That's what'll happen if you push this too hard." That was the optimistic assumption, Adam thought glumly. If an over-zealous Auror found Davies poking his nose in where it wasn't wanted, anything might happen.

Davies took one last disbelieving look at them, then turned and left. He looked like he still thought he held the moral high ground, Adam thought. "Perhaps we'd better have a word with his inspector," he suggested.

"Perhaps we'd better," Sam agreed.

Bowen cleared his throat. "Sir, I was wondering," he began, trailing off as Sam and Adam turned to look at him.

"Yes?" Sam said encouragingly.

"Has Mr Keel talked to you, sir?" Bowen glanced quickly at Adam. "Senior, I mean."

"About what?"

"Not my place to say, sir." Interesting, Adam thought. Bowen was staring fixedly at his boots. Whatever this was about, he certainly thought it was embarrassing.

Sam looked at Bowen thoughtfully. "If you're talking about why Chris is making Munroe so miserable, he did mention it to me."

"Wait, Munroe did something to Dad?" Adam asked. The sleazeball had been one of the guards there when Malfoy had tortured Chris. Bowen had been the other one. "What happened?"

Sam ignored him. "What else do I need to know about, corporal?" he asked Bowen.

"Still not my place to say, sir." Bowen didn't look up.

"Not even if I asked?" Sam pressed.

"I think Mr Keel would prefer I didn't tell."

Sam was looking at Bowen very narrowly now, but Adam wanted answers to his questions. "As long as Lucius didn't discover Dad really does have a crush on Sam, I don't care. What did Munroe..." He broke off, confused. Bowen actually seem to be trying to shrink into himself, which looked ridiculous for such a big guy, and he'd gone so red...

Oh.

"Really?" he asked weakly. "I mean I've been teasing Alec about it for months, but I didn't think you were actually—"

"We're not actually," Sam said sharply. "Cpl Bowen, what exactly is my partner avoiding telling me? And none of that 'not my place' crap this time."

"While you were both still out of it from the oil," Bowen said reluctantly, "Mr Malfoy interrogated Mr Keel using le—, uh..." He trailed off, looking to Adam for help.

"Legilimancy," Adam supplied. "Mind-reading, basically."

Bowen nodded gratefully. "He found something. He didn't exactly say what, just that it was his deepest desire and it involved you. I don't—" He paused, looking up at Sam for the first time. "I don't know for sure, but I think Mr Keel has feelings for you."

Sam stood there like granite. Adam had a million questions, but he didn't dare voice them. He had no idea what was going on in Sam's head, what on earth he was making of all this. Whether this was going to tear CI5's finest apart or just be one more thing Chris couldn't have.

"Promise or threat?" Sam asked suddenly. Adam blinked, confused.

Bowen apparently understood. "Both, sir. He was a bastard like that."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. Adam bit back still more questions. Bowen's file had mentioned that he'd been kidnapped with a friend who hadn't survived Lucius's tender mercies. If he had been through what Lucius had intended to put Chris through, he wouldn't appreciate being reminded of it.

"Thank you, corporal," Sam said. He started to turn away, but stopped and looked hard at Bowen. "Have you talked to anyone about what Malfoy did to you?" he asked. Bowen nodded. "Even this?"

This time the nod was slower, more cautious and almost certainly a lie. It certainly didn't fool Sam. "You should," he said firmly. "You can't keep everyone else together if you fall apart yourself."

Bowen looked down again. "People died because of me," he said.

"People died because of Lucius Malfoy," Adam told him. "They would probably have died no matter what you did, because he was that sort of bastard. Talk to Alec if you want the details, but Lucius wouldn't have given a damn about any of you. He idolised a psychopath who would have happily committed genocide if Harry hadn't killed him."

"Harry? The kid?"

Adam nodded sadly. "We've all been fighting a war since we were way too young. The way I hear it, Harry didn't expect to survive killing Voldemort. He didn't expect anyone in there to survive. He did, though, and somehow so did Lucius. Sometimes he thinks everything that happened to you guys is his fault for not killing Malfoy, for breaking under torture."

"That's ridiculous," Bowen protested. "He's just a kid, it's not his fault. No one could be expected to do all that."

"Harry expects it," Sam said quietly. "He spent seven years fighting, doing the impossible, and he still thinks he messed up. Sound like anyone else we know?"

Bowen looked sheepish, so Adam pressed the point. "Getting Harry to accept help is like pulling teeth. Don't make me have to try with you too. I don't like dentistry."

"Alright, sir," Bowen said, admitting defeat. "I'll talk to Dr Andrews tomorrow."

"Brilliant," Adam said. He clapped Bowen on the shoulder, making a mental note to warn Dr Andrews about what was coming. At this rate, CI5's psychiatrists were going to need psychiatrists.

"Good," Sam said decisively. "Now I just have to deal with my partner." He turned and strode towards the common room. Adam exchanged an alarmed look with Bowen and headed after him. He caught up in time to see Chris turn from the group of police officers he and Alec had been chatting to and smile at Sam.

"So, lunch," Chris said. "I was thinking—"

"You are an idiot," Sam said. He stepped forward, grasped Chris's head and kissed him hard.

"Well that was unexpected," Alec remarked mildly.

"Really?" Adam asked. "I was beginning to think it was a family trait, marching up and kissing someone like that."

Alec raised an eyebrow. "Was that an objection?"

"Nope," Adam said quickly. "No objections here." He gave Alec a questioning look, trying to gauge whether or not he was really OK with this unexpected display.

"Then all is well," Alec said with a light smile.

"What the hell?" one of the smarter policemen asked. Oops, Adam thought. Sam and his dad could do without the audience for this bit.

"So, lunch," he said brightly, echoing what his Dad had said. "There's a decent-looking pub just down the road, and I reckon we've earned the break. Our parents will catch up eventually." Behind him, Sam started telling Chris exactly what sort of idiot he was.

"But—"

"Sounds like a plan," DI Trevor said, firmly squashing his minion's objections. "Assuming you're paying, of course."

Alec smiled and started herding everyone towards the door. "At least one member of your family should learn how to fill in an expenses form," he told Adam.

* * *

**Epilogue**

"Left! Left!"

"I know!" Alec shouted. He turned the wheel hard left, tapped the brake and applied just a smidgen of magic to improve his roadholding. His car swung into the alley much less neatly then he would have liked, but at least their pursuers didn't gain any ground. "Now if you could discourage them a little?" he said pointedly.

Adam finished magically reinforcing the rear window and popped a couple of shots off at the nearest car. The driver swerved a little, but evidently Adam hadn't hit anything important. "Got everything ready for the wedding on your side?" he asked, as if being pursued by irate gun-runners was something they did every day.

"I've got the easy side," Alec pointed out. He reconsidered the statement as he navigated the narrow Eastern European streets. "Mostly," he amended. "The CI5 guests know how far they can push things with Mr Malone present, but Grandad Curtis is a law unto himself."

Adam risked another shot as they swung onto a wider road. One of the pursuing vehicles obligingly lost control and demolished a street lamp. "Not got enough blackmail material?" Adam asked, glancing at the GPS info on his phone.

"What kind of amateur do you take me for? He just doesn't believe I'll use it." Alec felt one of the back tyres give and was grateful that they had switched to run-flats earlier. Faking those with magic was surprisingly hard. "How about your families?"

"Mostly OK." Adam paused as Alec made a sudden right turn without needing to be prompted, thank you. "Grandma Keel has Grandpa under control, and Mum can sort the Weasleys. Though it would help if you could demonstrate just how fast you can disarm a wizard sometime."

Alec would have raised an eyebrow if he hadn't been busy counting down the seconds. "You're better at martial arts than me," he observed.

"Yeah, but Fred thinks I only beat him because I know him so well. At least once our parents are off on honeymoon we can do our own wedding planning undisturbed."

"If you think Sam and Chris haven't already started Backup and Spencer planning for us, you are sadly mistaken."

"I can dream," Adam sighed. "Coming up on the turn."

"I know," Alec said, calm now that their plan was about to pay off. "The rings and the Registry Office are sorted, that's all that really matters."

Two seconds later he threw the car to the left between two buildings, flooring the accelerator as he emerged into a square. The pursuing vehicles made the unexpected turn under much less control, and were easy meat for the crossfire Chris and Sam had set up. One handbrake turn later and Alec and Adam were also out and shooting, using the reinforced doors of their car as a shield against stray bullets.

"Come on," Adam grumbled. "We've only got three days to wrap this up and get our parents home in time for their wedding."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done. This story took an excruciatingly long time to write not because I didn't know how it went -- I've known the overall plot since I started writing it -- but because other stories kept interfering. Many thanks to everyone who commented, whether with praise or problems, and congratulations for putting up with my passion for small fandoms!


End file.
